


Ashes of colors

by byzinha



Series: DCU [21]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Gen, Kid Fic, Original Character(s), christmas in july
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7441825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byzinha/pseuds/byzinha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A child is left stranded in time with no identity, no memories, no parents, no one but a half-broken AI, a blue parka too big for his small frame and a jump ship. All he knows is that he keeps having these dreams, and with the AI’s help, he starts to put together the puzzle pieces to discover who he is and how to go back to his family.</p><p>Yes, another Captain Canary kid fic, bite me. :P</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> (Straight from the series "I've no idea what I'm doing")
> 
> I want to thank Nyxisis for helping me with it, previously reading and giving me some feedback.
> 
> The prologue is sort of a throw to the Christmas in July that has been going on around the lot community. Expect some angst, a lot of Mick Rory and a little bit of a mess.  
> You can listen to the song that inspired me [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTS64qgHuIo), and if you want a translation, just call me on @breakthestrutura on tumblr.  
> I still don't know how long this fic will be, but I hope to have it all up before the Olympics start, because, well, I'll hella busy in Rio and all heh
> 
>  
> 
> **The characters of Legends of Tomorrow are not mine, thanks God, I have no idea what to do with them.**
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you like it and leave a comment at the end if you feel like it ^^

" _Don't wait for me,_ _'cause_ _I'm not coming back soon,_    
_Don't swim_ _'cause_ _I drown, don't fly because I fall from the sky,_    
_I can't float on the clouds like you._    
_You won't understand that I don't know how to fly,_    
_I know nothing anymore._ " 

 _Canção_ _pra_ _não_ _voltar_ – A Banda Mais Bonita da Cidade 

 **Prologue**  

He remembers one thing. It’s the only memory he’s got for the past… year or so. Christmas. He can tell because everything is red and green, smells like pine, sugar and maple, sounds nice, even though he can’t tell how those facts put together determine what season it is.  

Even though it’s Christmas, there’s no snow, which is kind of frustrating, for some unknown reason. The sun is shining outside and when he goes out, he can smell the ocean, the tepid air tells him a story he doesn’t exactly hear. 

He also doesn’t listen to the woman calling him, though he knows she is calling and he knows he will turn around. She’s beautiful, with blonde hair and blue eyes and she smiles to him so lovely, so caring. He loves her, he knows that much. But why? He doesn’t know who she is. 

It’s Christmas and he is sitting alone on a stool outside a candy store. He’s got the money, but he can’t go inside. _No place for street kids_ , they said, even though he has a house (hidden in the middle of the woods) and he has a home (somewhere. Probably). It’s snowing and at least he’s got this blue parka that is too big for him covering most of his body.  

The parka is important, he doesn’t know why. It just is. Now it only smells like him, but when he “woke up” (with the quotation marks, because it didn’t feel like he was awake at all, his mind was too foggy for this to be real life), it smelled like ice and cologne. Not that ice had a smell, he knew that much, but that was what the parka told him, kind of. Cologne, and ice. 

He doesn’t know why the lack of snow had bothered him so much in his memory, there was nothing to it, now that he is seeing it live, now that it is biting his skin. 

To his left, he can see the Smoke Mountains. They are far, but they are the reason why he came. _Why_ was another question he doesn’t know how to answer. Because. Maybe. There is something about big mountains with snow on top, and a cold river coming down between them, a frozen lake on the bottom. Perhaps it was another mountain he had seen, not those. But those felt close enough. 

A year, and he still isn’t even close. Of the ocean breeze, or the beautiful woman, or the mountain top. 

A year, and he still doesn’t know. 

The boy looks through the glass of the candy shop one more time, but all he could see is him: cheeks red pierced by the cold, blue eyes, dark curled hair under the hood. 

He should go back to Gideon, now, she must’ve be worried. Gideon is the only one with a name in his life, though she isn’t a person. She is just a half-broken British A.I. with a lot of sass. She thinks she knew him, but it was probably in another lifetime.  

Like him, she can’t remember. All she can do is to take care of him, as much as she can, and take him to the places he want. He couldn’t carry her out of the house, though. The house is a jump ship, and along with the memory and the parka, it is the only thing he has. 

He sighs, his right thumb rubbing the dollars in his pocket. Money is an useless thing when you are (what? Twelve? Maybe thirteen?) alone and you only have one change of clothes that are beginning to be too short. 

That was why he looked for the mountains, because he was certain they were a tip to point him in the right direction. 

They aren’t.  

Those probably are the wrong mountains.  

He gets up and starts to walk again, towards the woods where his jump ship was hidden, his house for the past eleven months, nineteen days and seven hours. What else could he do? 

“Welcome back Mr. Saint,” greets Gideon when he forces the door open. He needs to fix the identity authorization, but he still hasn’t figured out how. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

“Barely,” he answers. Saint isn’t his name, but it was how some kids called him once in Gotham City, and he liked the familiarity it brought, so ever since, he asked Gideon to call him that. It was better than just ‘boy’, the way she was calling him in the beginning. 

He empties his pockets, revealing all kinds of small pieces and some tools, all with which he planned on continue on fixing Gideon’s hard drive, and the ship. It’s been a slow progress, but he is good at it, for some reason. Besides, he couldn’t shake the feeling that to fix the ship is his only chance to know who he is.  

 _We all_ _gotta_ _believe in something in order to survive_ , a male voice spoke in his head. He loves that voice as much as he loves the blonde woman, though he couldn’t give it a face. _Even if it’s just_ _in_ _ourselves, we_ _gotta_ _believe_. 

To believe was all he could do.


	2. One

When Lisa Snart was little, she was always asking Leonard to settle down. It was probably the first expression she learned. _Lenny, you need to settle down_. Being only three at the time, she didn't even know what that entailed. The innocent request caused laughter among 17-years-old Leonard Snart and his friends. _Sure thing, Lis_ , he replied at the time patting her brown curls, something that would always make the girl giggle. 

To settle down had never been an option until the Waverider happened, and Sara happened, and the Wellspring happened. When he was back, there was nothing he wanted more than to do just that.  

That was why the in-between missions during the 2017 spring was so important to Leonard. They allowed him to have a taste of that domestic life. With Sara living with her mother and Lisa working at S.T.A.R. Labs, his days of “Spring Break” were divided between the small house at the edge of the city and the fancy apartment near the University campus. 

It was in one of the mornings spent at the apartment that Sara woke up with the sudden realization of her surroundings, as if this new life had finally caught up to her: sleeping in Leonard's arms with her head on his chest, she couldn't help but smile fondly at him. That face of his, so beautiful… it was her ruin. It was then that the nausea hit her hard and she jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom at the end of the corridor, ignoring the room's suite as to not wake him up. 

“I’ve got something for you,” her mother said, standing by the door. Dinah Lance offered her daughter a glass of water, that Sara gladly took, and then she dropped a rectangular box on her lap. 

“Gee, mom,” complained Sara, taking the little box and getting up. “I’ve already done a couple of these.” 

“I know,” Dinah nodded, and then walked away leaving the door open. Sara sighed, and looked at the instructions in the back of the box. She wanted to pee anyway. 

When Leonard woke up, hardly fifteen minutes later, he couldn’t see, but that was just because his eyesight sucked. So, like a zombie, he went to the bathroom, where he did his morning routine – take a leak, wash his face, brush his teeth (yes, he had a toothbrush in Sara’s house) – before he reached for his glasses by the nightstand to finally have the world in focus. 

This time, there was something else by his glasses, though. 

“ _WHAT_?” Sara heard Leonard exclaim from the kitchen. She was making some apple tea, Dinah sat at the table sipping her coffee, and Len practically ran to where they were. He was holding the three pregnancy tests Sara had done. “Really?” 

It was a weird question, and Sara turned to Leonard and waited. He looked at the tests again, a whole lot of emotions going through his face before he looked at her one more time. 

“You’re going to be a Daddy,” Sara confirmed, daring to smile a bit, and to her surprise, Leonard laughed. 

“We’re having a baby?” 

The blonde nodded and, without any warning, he embraced her with his arms going around her waist, hiding his face in the curve of her neck and a palpable joy coming from him. That was so unexpected. So unbelievably crazy, that this man – her man – who came from the most fucked up family ever would be genuinely happy to start his own with her — the resurrected Canary girl. 

“You’re really okay with it?” Sara asked, just to make sure, and Leonard looked at her with a half smile. 

“I’m actually terrified, but let’s do it. We can do it, don’t you think?” 

Overjoyed, all Sara could do was to nod. 

 

“This is no time for a human being to be up and about,” Lisa Snart complained again while spinning in her chair, and she could _feel_ Cisco roll his eyes behind her. Technically, she had that job just until her brother and Mick came back from their mission with the British guy, but they were home for half a month already and none of them talked about pulling heists. 

“It’s almost 9 a.m. Why can’t you just be happy to have a job and an actual check at the end of the month, Glider? Like normal people?” Cisco asked, passing by her to get to the Flash’s costume, for he was fixing one of its devices. 

“Normal is boring,” replied Lisa. “And the only thing that makes me happy right now is to watch your ass as you walk away.” 

From the med bay, they heard Caitlin snort a laugh. Cisco only shook his head and Lisa would say something else if her phone hadn’t buzzed. She quickly picked it up, and opened the message from Leonard in record speed, desperate for an excuse to go anywhere. It was a photo. And a photo that made her scream. 

“What? Is everything okay?” Cisco ran to Lisa, Caitlin came just as fast. 

“Oh, my God! Look!” Lisa practically shoved the phone in their faces. “Look!” 

Cisco took the phone from her to read the message with the photo. 

 _Guess we'll have to stay a little longer_ , Leonard wrote, and despite himself, Cisco smiled. Lisa still was beaming, things like “this is the best news” and “Oh God, this is awesome” coming out of her mouth. Stein and Jax appeared just a minute after, also drawn by the screams. 

“Is everything alright?” asked the professor, and Caitlin handed the phone back to Lisa before answering. 

“Snart and Sara are pregnant,” she told them, and both men looked surprised and delighted. 

“That was fast,” commented the young men, right when Barry sped in. 

“What was fast?” he asked.  

“Barry,” Cisco said, pretending seriousness. “I’m afraid I have to tell you that there will be another Snart in town.”  

Barry frowned, and then he looked at Lisa, as if looking for an answer that he wasn’t sure she could give. Except she knew how to answer that one. 

“I’m gonna be an aunt!” she practically shouted, so excited she was, and then she got up. “I need to call my brother.” 

 

The jump ship is Saint's mansion. Gideon is responsible for all the meals in her special device, and he's got a makeshift bed in a corner; there is a whole set of tools in a closet and a whole lot of questions without answers. No extra clothes besides the parka, though. Gideon could also give him money, so he's considering using it to go buy some in a Salvation Army store or something. She's also the one who kept him in check during the so many years he spent in the milk bath before he woke up – eleven months, nineteen days and twenty-one hours ago. 

There are two major problems with his jump ship: the first is that even though it had a technology over a hundred years older than Saint himself, only its basic devices work properly; it couldn't time jump, its mainframe is massively broken and he hardly has access to timeline intelligence. The second is that it was made with technology about a hundred years older than Saint, and there is no way in hell he will find everything he needs to fix its mainframe as well as Gideon's hard drive.  

And that is the cycle of life for the boy in the oversized blue parka: in order to know who he is, he has to fix Gideon, in order to fix Gideon, he needs the proper technology, in order to have the proper technology, he has to time jump, but to time jump, he has to fix the mainframe, that demands the right technology, and so he goes, improvising and hoping for the best. 

"Mr. Saint, it's bed time," Gideon tells him, and the boy rolls his eyes. He's under the control desk, trying to make sense of all the information in front of in. He practically knows all the colorful wires and lights by heart, that control desk has been his main project for ages, but there's still something missing there and he still doesn't know how to make it right. "Mr. Saint?" 

"Dammit, Gideon, give me a rest," Saint complains, trying to think. 

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do, Mr. Saint," she replies. "If you don't sleep properly, you won't be in your best shape to start again next morning." 

Saint scoffs. 

"There's no way I can fall asleep right now," he says, fingers delicately tracing the lines of the ways each interface of the mainframe is supposed to go as he tries to map them. "Do you want to be fixed or not?" 

"Yes, I do, Mr. Saint," the A.I. tells him. "But not at the cost of your well-being. I was given orders." 

"Yeah, you keep telling me that," he shrugs, but since he's still touching the plaques, one of them is accidentally dislocated and falls, hanging by its thin, colored wires. "Who ordered you that, anyway?" 

"You know I can't remember, Saint," she says, and he can feel the ice, as she rarely uses only his name like this. Gideon is growing impatient and he'd better start collaborating with her night routine. 

"Five more minutes, okay?" Saint negotiates, turning the plaque over with curious eyes, and he notices something out of place. "Can you give me a little more light under here, please?" He requests, and Gideon responds right away, increasing the brightness under the desk. 

Saint sits up, still small enough to be able to do so without much trouble, carefully pulling the plaque in his direction. It's about the size of the palm of his hand and one of the wires, a light blue one well hidden between many others, is hanging by a thread. With small, light fingers, Saint separates the other wires from the blue one to analyze what exactly he is looking at. It's a surgical work to untangle the last bit of the wire and look at the space it was connected to, but he manages in record time. 

"Gideon, what does this blue wire do?" He asks reaching for his switchblade to uncap it a little and attach it back in place. 

"Is there a serial number?" Says Gideon, and Saint looks closely. 

"Too small to read, hold on," he's looking for something in the plaque that might indicate what the blue wire is for, but the A.I. keeps talking. 

"Some of the blue wires were used to maintain my monitoring system in the first versions of the ship," she tells him, and Saint looks up, thinking, frowning. 

He looks for a welder among the tools he has available, and before he turns it on, he puts on his goggles. Those goggles were in the parka's pocket and were quite useful when he had to do that kind of work. It only takes a couple of minutes for Saint to weld the wire back in place, but by the time he puts the plaque back where it belongs, he's mentally exhausted. 

"Please, tell me this made any difference," he pleads, crawling out from under the desk and to his bed, removing his goggles on the way. 

"I can't tell for sure yet, Mr. Saint, but I'll let you know," Gideon guarantees, and the boy lays down. "Want me to kill the lights now?" 

"Yes, Gideon, please." 

Saint didn't think he would fall asleep so easily, but the day, though uneventful, had been quite the rollercoaster – as if he had been through an emotional crusade or something. It only takes him a few minutes to relax under the blanket and fall into one of his confusing dreams. 

He would always dream about the same thing: he is in an bathtub, and his hands are small – smaller. He can see the sunlight through the window, and his eyes wander around. There are people talking, but he can't make out the words. And there are the mountains. They are two, maybe three, in dark green, white and blue, with a semi-frozen lake at the bottom and they look like a frame – colorful and vibrating and full of life, but not quite. He reaches out to touch the mountains, but they are too far away, and that's when Saint always wakes up. 

"Mr. Saint?" Calls Gideon, in a soothing tone when he opens his eyes. There's a little bit of light coming from outside, the morning sun sneaking a peek. 

"Good morning, Gideon," the boy replies, trying to snuggle under the covers better and wondering if he should try and sleep for a little longer. 

"I figured out what the blue wire was about," she says, and he hums, indicating that he's listening. "I'm able to monitor dreams again, now." 

"I didn't know dreams could be monitored," he comments, rubbing his eyes to push the sleep away. 

"They can. I can," the A.I. informs casually. "And I know what the mountains are." 

That makes Saint sit up right away, totally awake in a second. 

"What are they, then?" He presses, curiosity taking the best of him. 

"Alaska. It's in Alaska," Gideon informs, and he's ready to set the course to the place, but she continues. "But it also isn't. The mountains you see in your dreams are from a tattoo," she displays a 3D image of the site in Alaska that is exactly the mountains Saint has been dreaming about since he "woke up", and then the image changes to a beautiful picture tattooed on the back of a man. 

"Who is he?" Saint asks, frowning even more. 

"He's Leonard Snart, former rogue turned Legend from Central City," Gideon responds, and Saint leans against the wall, looking at the image of that man, trying to see if it rings any bell. It doesn’t.  

"How is he related to me?" 

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer, Mr. Saint." 

For a few minutes, no one says a thing. Saint can only look and think, and Gideon, well, no one can tell what the A.I. thinks about ever, but she's very good at giving the boy the space he needs to put things in place the way he wants to. 

"Where was he last seen?" The boy finally asks, and Gideon puts her mainframe to work. 

"Mr. Snart had a home in Louisiana, by the beach," she tells Saint, showing him a picture of a two stores small house with a back door direct to the beach's white sand. "The house still exists, but no one has ever lived there since 2025." 

There's something about Gideon's tone that catches the boy's curiosity. 

"What is it, Gideon?" he asks, and he can _swear_ she makes a sound pretty similar to a hum. 

"Leonard Snart was never a big fan of the heat," she states, and one of Saint's eyebrows goes up. 

"How do you know?" 

She hesitates. And then- 

"I don't know," which also comes up with a little bit of disappoint, if he dares to catch. 

"If he didn't like the warm weather, why did he had a house in Louisiana?" Wonders the boy. 

"Do you want to find out, Mr. Saint?" Asks Gideon. "We can go there, and the weather is beautiful this time of the year." 

She doesn't need to ask twice. Saint stands up and starts to put his things in place to prepare for the trip. 

"Set the course, Gideon," he orders. He was done with Colorado anyway.


	3. Two

The worst part about being at Jitters was that the place smelled so good and, being caffeine free until the baby was born, Sara didn't appreciate this. No one could blame her for looking kind of down while all her friends drank coffee after lunch while she had to be satisfied with her red juice. They had been there for a while with her mopping when Leonard and Lisa finally arrived.  

"Hey, how did it go?" Asked Caitlin, handing a Venti to Lisa. Leonard stopped by Sara's side, greeting her with a kiss on the forehead.  

"Good, actually," he answered. 

"Did you like it?" Sara asked, leaving her juice on the table and turning to him. 

"Yeah, I did." 

"You guys," interrupted Lisa, after sipping her coffee. "If you don't close the deal, I will, that apartment is _amazing_." 

"No!" Sara pointed at her sister-in-law. "It's _ours_!" 

Lisa just raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk in her lips. 

"Yeah, we're going back there this afternoon," Leonard backed Sara up, making her smile. "Are you going to drink that?" He pointed at the blonde's drink and she shook her head no, so he reached for her cup and drank practically half of it in one go. "How do people _stand_ the heat outside, it's ridiculous." 

Lisa and Leonard had gone to check this apartment – that was more of a condo, if you thought about it – that Sara had found by accident the week before. It was between the train station and the University, which meant that they’d live a bit far from the Labs. On the bright side, Dinah lived just two blocks away while it was a fifteen minutes drive to Lisa. Plus, the train station was right before the hospital and that could only count as a hell of a back up plan for first-time parents.  

"Oh, since we're all here!" Sara suddenly remembered, holding leonard's arm to make him turn to her as well. "Len," she started, and he frowned at her, leaving the half-empty cup on the table. Cisco and Wally narrowed their eyes, Iris and Caitlin tilted their heads. "I love you. I'm having your baby. And I plan on having a lot of your babies." 

"What are you doing?" He asked carefully. 

"We kind of live together, but now we're buying our own apartment," she continued. 

"That's correct," Leonard said quietly, getting a tad worried. It wasn't much like Sara to deliver speeches, and to be honest, she was scarring him a little. 

He should be worried, because the next thing Sara did was to get down on one knee and reach for something in her purse, that was hanging on the chair. He immediately started to laugh, because that was so hilarious. 

"I guess what I'm trying to say," Sara continued, almost unable to control the laugh as well. They had talked about getting married a few times, coming up with the most awkward proposal ideas they could think of and mocking all of them. So there was no way in hell they would miss the opportunity to live one of their own. She just had to beat him and propose it first. "Leonard Snart, would you give me the _honor_ to be my husband?"  

She opened the black box she had on her purse for the past couple of days, revealing a plain golden ring, and Leonard covered his face with a hand. 

"Jesus Christ, Lance, get up," he reached for her upper arm, but she leaned back, still waiting for his answer. 

"What do you say?" Sara pressed, and he could only shake his head once, seeing how their friends from S.T.A.R. Labs were smiling at them and not minding Cisco with his phone up for once. The packed Jitters was silent. Leonard looked at Sara, the bright mischief in her eyes and the way she was smiling at him. 

"Yes," he answered at last, and she accepted his hand to help her up. "I hate you so much." 

"And yet you still said yes," she commented. 

Sara slid the ring on his finger, and then held his shirt, bringing him down to kiss her. They didn’t mind that around them, people were commenting how crazy that city was. _Leonard_ _Snart_ _not only cleans his record, but also_ _is getting married. Only in Central City_. 

 

Gideon wasn't lying when she said that the weather was beautiful in Louisiana right at the end of December. The sun is shining when Saint sets foot in the warm sand behind Snart's house. He knows that the water is too cold, so he doesn't even go there. To get to the house, he has to go up a small sand hill with grass as tall as his hips, and something about that hill... 

Saint looks back at the ocean, frowning. _This is the best Christmas ever_ , a girl's voice says in his head, and he looks to his right, obviously finding no one. It's the middle of the afternoon of December 25th 2030, and even so, the street is empty, the beach is empty. It looks as lonely as he feels.  

The house, he thinks, holds the key. So he walks there, climbs up the stairs and tests the handle in vain. Of course it's locked, but the kitchen window never closes appropriately, and so he gives it a gentle pull.. 

It's only when he hears the clique of the lock that he realizes that maybe he shouldn't know about the window at all. Saint doesn't want to think too much about it, so he just enters the house pushing the hood of the parka back as he looks around, closing the door behind him. 

He's in the kitchen, and there are drawings hanging on the fridge, but there's nothing inside it. The power is out. He opens drawers and cabinets, but everything is overdue at least a couple of years ago, so he moves to the next room, past the stairs.  

The living room looks dusty. It's not modern like the jump ship, and it pretty much looks like something out of a family photo album: there are portraits and photos all around, medals, trophies. Saint gets close to the fireplace, where there are at least five photos of Leonard Snart and other people, including the blonde woman from his memory, and a little boy that he wants to dare say it's him.  

As he looks at the photos, some names pop in his head, but none as clear as the ones when he reaches the frame at the very corner. 

"Wynonna Allen, Lucia Ramon," he says, fingers brushing the photo. It's him, he knows for sure, between a dark skinned girl with bright hazel eyes and long curly hair, and another girl, younger than them both, golden skin, straight black hair and a huge smile that makes her close her eyes. The photo says that it was taken at Christmas 2023. 

He wipes the dust from the photo and looks at it closely, trying to bring up the memory. It's almost like he's laying down on the tepid sand outside again, to his right, someone lays down as well. _This is the best Christmas ever_ , she says, and when he looks, Wyn is there, a bright smile on her face; he doesn't get it. _How could it be, there's no snow_ , he complains, and she props up on one elbow. Her mother had braided her hair earlier, but Wyn had undone them right after lunch. _Exactly_ , she tells him, _who'd like the cold so much?_ He answers, maybe. But then Lucia comes jumping on them and she's small and loud and has some story to tell that is funny, so they laugh until the blonde woman calls him. The three of them look back at her, and she raises her phone to snap a picture. This picture. 

His fingers come practically black from the dust, and he puts the photo back in its place before going up the stairs. Everything is a mix of modern and traditional: while the living room is all wood and old cushions, the stairs are steel and carbide. His steps don’t make a sound, and the first door he finds is a suite. 

The windows are closed, but the curtains are drown, so the sunlight can come in, illuminating the dust that floats in the air. That house hasn’t seen people for five years, and that is clear. Saint steps in further, catching glimpses of wedding photos and closed boxes on the corner, next to another door that he opens to reveal a closet large enough to fit two people's clothes. Half of it has woman’s clothes, half has man’s, and that half has one curious item: a blue parka just like the one Saint is wearing at that moment. 

He gets closer to get the parka from its hanger and his feet hit some sort of box that is on the floor, so Saint leaves the clothes alone and sits down the floor, pulling the box out of the closet and closer to him. It’s like a black, large briefcase without a combination lock, and when he opens it, there’s a gun inside, a big one, that he touches with careful hands.  

He doesn’t have permission to hold it, to be honest, and there’s something very primal in him that wants to obey that order, even if he doesn’t know where it comes from; but he’s alone now, and whoever told him that the gun was off limits isn’t around anymore to have a say.  

It’s a heavy gun, and Saint has to hold it with both hands as he looks closely, the ending of it pointed away from his chest (he’s curious, but not stupid). On its base, there’re two words written: _Captain Cold_. He, then, looks inside the case more closely, seeing that it contains all sort of things, from extra charges to superheroes cards, and looking through them, there they are – Captain Cold wearing the blue parka and goggles, and the White Canary, who was the blonde woman from the photos and his memory. 

Saint leans in to take a better look at those cards, but he still is holding the gun, which causes it to make a sound, and a bright glare is shot inside the closet, dropping the temperature severely inside that room. That’s the reason he didn’t have permission to hold the gun before, Saint remembered, putting it back inside the case. Better to keep checking, keep looking. 

 

 _Poor Larson had a birthday on the worst day ever,_ Mick Rory thinks to himself like he had been thinking to himself for the past seven years. Lisa always says that he was planned, expected, but no one plans to have your kid sharing the birthday with Jesus, how could one compete? 

“You could at least _pretend_ you’re enjoying, couldn’t you?” Lisa says from the door, and Mick looks up at her from above the beer he’s nursing. “Lucia knows when you’re upset, she makes questions after. _Mommy, why didn’t uncle Mick laugh at my joke?_ ”  

Despite himself, Mick smiles, and Lisa takes it as a cue to sit by his side. 

“Remember the last time we had a normal Christmas?” he asks, and she nods. “It wasn’t even normal, but…” 

She knows. Last time they were all together was actually the day Larson was born. And then, Barry was gone. And then so was Lenny and Sara with their kids. 

“Your mother-in-law still holds it against you for going to Louisiana that year,” he says, not a question. If Cisco’s mom already had a beef with her younger son, it got worst when they ended up having her second grandchild over twelve hours away from her, even if it wasn’t the plan. 

“Won’t ever let us forget, nope,” Lisa replies, eyes ahead. 

“We had this bet going on, but I guess we’ll give up, the woman won’t ever bulge!” Mick comments, and Lisa smiles. He looks at her, then. “I’m enjoying it, don’t worry.” 

“Mick,” she starts, but he shakes his head no. 

“Don’t worry,” he assures her, and at that very moment, his phone buzzes. Lisa looks away when he checks it, but he knows she can sense his tension when he sees what’s on the screen. “Lis, I’ve gotta go,” he tells her, and she raises an eyebrow, torn between skepticism and curiosity, something she picked from Leonard. 

“Off to save the world already?” she asks looking up, he’s already standing. 

“Something like that. It’s more like this thing I need to check out. I will keep you posted, okay?” 

Lisa nods. She’s used to see him leave, Mick’s sort of important now. 

“Don’t forget to say bye to the kids!” she calls, even though she doesn’t need to. He would never again miss on saying goodbye to the little ones. 

 

The door of the next room is open and when he steps in, it sets a memory in motion immediately, so intense that Saint even gasps. 

 _Lu-_ _cas_ , he says, looking up at the name at the door. His parents are inside the room. They are his parents. Leonard Snart and... Sara, that's her name. Sara. They are by the crib, checking some stickers and decorations for the room when he goes in. His mom has a round belly. _Lucas_ , he says again, and then looks at them. They are looking at him smiling. _Am I having a baby brother?_ The day is bright, and he can smell the pumpkin pie his grandmother is baking downstairs all the way here. His father kneels in front of him smiling and touches his nose with one long finger. _Yes, you are!_  

There is something in Saint's eyes and when he blinks, he feels the tears dropping on his cheeks, that he wipes away with the back of his hands. His breathing is shallow now as he looks around. This still is a baby room, and it still is incomplete. The boxes, he knows, are baby things for Lucas. What happened?  

Frowning, he touches the crib, aware of how dusty it is, just like the rest of the house. His family was putting his brother's room together, and they never finished it.  

He gets to a door inside the room, and it leads to a connected bathroom that takes him to another room, a room that, without a doubt, is his. It's blue, with a Heat Wave comforter and toys and photos all around, where he is with other children and some adults. He can't help but notice how many photos he has with Wyn and Lucia, some with a little boy as well, no older than 2, though he can't remember his name for sure. Landon? Leighton? His family has a L thing going on. 

The door of this room is open as well, and it tells him that it belongs to "Logan". It's door frame has a metric ruler with markings of Logan's height for several ages until age 7. Everything is both foreign and familiar: Saint knows the room is _his_ , but he doesn't know if his name is Logan. It's a fact, and he doesn’t _know_ it. It's freaking infuriating, really. 

He takes a red crayon from the top of the dresser, just to hold something. The lower half of the wall with the window is filled with crayon drawings, it's one of those walls you can wash and draw over again, and it makes him smile. He knows Lucia loves his room because of that wall. 

Suddenly, there's a noise behind him. It's a noise he knows in the back of his brain, and a warning, and standing in this empty house, he could only be wise and raise his hands. 

"Who the hell are you?" a low voice calls, and Saint frowns, trying to connect it to something in his head. Still with his hands up, he turns around, eyes on the floor, a frown on his brow. The person is blocking the whole door, and he's too far from the bathroom to try and escape, so all the boy does is to raise his head, chin up. 

He's right in front a tall man with large shoulders that has a funny gun pointed at him, but his hand is shaking, eyes haunted as he looks at Saint. The man swallows and then lets out a deep breath as he lowers his gun. When he speaks again, his voice is cautious. 

"Logan?" 

Saint's hands drop, but his eyes stay on the man. Finally, he answers. 

"I don't know."


	4. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took a while to update, but here it is! Chapter 4 will be longer, be ready.

They decorated most of the apartment with second hand furniture from garage sales and bazaars, which was great because they needed to save as much money as possible, and the scavenger hunt had them with a home as diverse as their lives looked like. Their baby was due in a couple of weeks, probably right before Halloween, and Sara and Leonard could hardly wait. 

“You never told me the story behind this,” Sara said, her hand on Leonard’s back, fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo that covered his whole back. They had been binge-watching America’s Next Top Model on Netflix, since Sara had to be in bed rest anyway. 

Leonard looked back at her and for a moment she thought that he wouldn’t say anything. 

“Have you seen Lisa’s tattoo?” he asked. 

“The golden phoenix on her side?” Sara said, and he nodded. 

“Lisa had this school friend when she was little, a girl who liked to draw and stuff. The girl moved upstate in the middle of their freshman year, because the children services had to take her from her parents. I thought they lost contact, and never said anything about it, because really, why would I? But then, a couple of weeks after Lisa’s 19th birthday, she started to disappear for a couple of days and come back as if nothing happened. From my experience, she had probably gotten a new boyfriend, so it was alright; but then she showed up one day looking sore and uncomfortable.” 

Sara looked for a better position against all those pillows, and Leonard turned all the way to face her, sitting with his legs crossed in front of her, one hand on her big belly. 

“My first thought was that the boyfriend had beaten her, so I pressed her about where she’d been spending her days until she told me. Until she showed me.” 

He thought about it for a moment. It’d been over 10 years already, when he saw the determination on his little sister’s eyes as she opened her shirt and showed the tattoo that was covering most of her right side, a golden phoenix just like her. 

“She told me that her friend was a tattoo artist now, specialized in covering domestic violence marks. Her friend had given the tattoo to Lisa as a birthday present. And Lisa told me that I could have my marks covered with something pretty as well. I didn’t give it much thought at first, but I went with her to her next session and saw her friend’s work. So yeah, that’s the story.” 

“And why the mountains and the lake?” Sara asked. 

“My mom-“ Leonard started, and then he stopped, looking down. Sara rested her hand on top of his, led it to where the baby was kicking, a little to the left. He smiled, and looked at her again. “My mom took Lis and I to see my grandfather there. The old man had decided to spend his last days in Alaska, I guess out of distaste for my father, I won’t ever know. He just wanted to stay away, I guess, and he’d take us with him, if Lewis wasn’t such a bastard, fucking everyone over. Last trip with mom, last time I saw gramps. I was 19.” 

“Does Lisa remember?” 

Leonard shrugged. 

“Vaguely. What do you remember from when you were five?” 

Sara smiled. 

“Not much.” 

“When I was five,” he continued, going down on Memory Lane. “I stole the kindergarten teacher’s keys and watched her desperately look for it for about two hours before I put it back in place. She never realized.” 

Sara laughed, her whole body shaking, and Leonard joined her. 

“Oh, God,” she said, and looked at him fondly. “You think Logan will be as naughty as we were as kids?” 

Leonard raised an eyebrow at her. Of course. 

 

The man by the door tilts his head a bit with Saint’s words, and his finger turns off the gun that is still humming.  

“Of course you are,” he says, and with a couple of steps he gets closer and traps Saint in an embrace that the boy doesn’t reciprocate, a frown in his brow, his head against the man’s large chest. Something sets him up, though, and he doesn’t say it out loud, but in his head he knows. _Uncle Mick_. 

Saint’s eyes drift to the dusty comforter on the bed, and he does the math. Even though uncle Mick’s hair is longer and full of white streaks- 

“You’re the Heat Wave,” the boy says, and finally uncle Mick lets go of him. Saint has to tilt his head to look at him in the eyes.  

“Damn right I am,” he says, his hand still on Saint’s shoulder, and maybe the boy can even catch a little bit of emotion in his voice. “What happened? Where have you been? Where are your parents and your brother? Why didn’t you bother to contact us?” Mick showers Saint with questions he doesn’t know how to answer, and the boy feels a little lightheaded. “Logan.” 

“I don’t know,” he says again, feeling nervous. “I’ve been alone for the past year.” 

“You’ve been gone for five,” continues the man. “What happened before?” 

Saint shakes his head, his breath comes out shallow and he’s restless. He doesn’t know. _He doesn’t know_. 

“Logan,” uncle Mick says again. “Logan, focus. What happened _before_ you were alone?” 

“I-“ the kid stutters and closes his eyes. The moment he woke up flashes in his head, it’s a mix of pain and desperation that he hardly controls. It still keeps him up some nights, when he isn’t dreaming about his dad and the bathtub. “I slept.” 

Mick steps back, thinking. It seems like he has an idea of what happened. 

“The milk baths, that’s why they wanted it,” he says, thinking out loud, and then he looks at Saint again, whose hand went to the back of his neck, where the needle that connected him to the milk bath that the man mentioned had been. “But you aged, so you weren’t drifting in the Temporal Zone. Where’s the ship?” 

“I only have a jump ship, and it works like shit,” Saint tells Mick, who nods. 

“But will have to do. Where is it?” 

“Uh,” the boy stutters. “I left it on the beach.” 

Uncle Mick then smiles, and pats the boy’s head, messing with his curly hair. 

“Clever. Let’s go, kid,” he says, turning his back to Saint and walking out. The boy follows him close. 

“How did you find me?” Saint asks as they go down the stairs and out through the back door. 

“I put an alarm in the cold gun, I get a notification whenever it’s activated,” he explains and Saint nods. 

“How many times did that happen?” 

Uncle Mick pauses on top of the sand hill and Saint stops by his side. 

“Just once,” he says, and gestures for Saint to show the way. In his pocket, Saint presses the button of a small remote control and the jump ship appears. 

He walks ahead and uncle Mick follows him to the door. The automatic doors are still broken, so he has to force it open, which makes the man hum. 

“Welcome back, Mr. Saint,” Gideon greets as soon as they get in. 

“Gideon!” exclaims uncle Mick excitedly. “Long time no see.” 

The A.I. hesitates, and then- 

“Hello, Mr. Rory,” which makes Saint scoff offended. 

“How can you remember who he is and not me?” 

“My system was tempted, you know that, Mr. Saint.” 

“Mr. Saint?” echoes uncle Mick with a raised eyebrow. 

“I told you I don’t know who I am. Saint is how people call me.” 

“ _People_?” he questions, probably wondering which people the boy had met, and then he shakes the question off. “Kid, is your father Leonard Snart?” a little dubious, Saint nods. “Is your mother Sara Lance?” now with a little more certainty, he agrees. “Then you are Logan Snart, quit doubting it.” 

“I don’t remember, though,” Saint admits. “It’s all blocked.” 

Uncle Mick looks right at him, then, eyes fixed on the boy’s face as if looking for something to make him question his decisions before looking at the door of the ship where he reaches for the identification lock. 

“Gideon, who messed with your system?” he asks, and before she can answer him, he adds. “Think carefully before saying ‘It don’t know’.” 

It sounds like a warning and it seems like the A.I. catches it, so she takes a second or two too long before saying anything. 

“It was messed in a rush by someone in 2025, Mr. Rory, in a way that I can’t fix alone, I need external help.” 

“Yeah, I see,” he pushes a plaque right by the identifier and it falls off easily, revealing a mess of disconnected wires that Saint didn’t know were there.  

The boy only observes as Mick takes wire by wire and connects them back in place with only the help of a Swiss Army knife that was in his boot. It’s rather impressive, if you asked him, and it only takes ten minutes for the Heat Wave to put the plaque back in its place again. After that, he presses his palm on the identity lock. 

“Identity confirmed:” Gideon says. “Mick Rory.” 

Uncle Mick smiles and steps to the side, giving space for Saint to come closer, and the boy does that with careful steps. 

“Go on,” he says, pointing to the lock. “Get the million dollars answer.” 

Saint, then, takes a deep breath and reaches out, pressing his right palm against the now lightened reader, partially expecting nothing to happen, but then- 

“Identity confirmed: Logan Snart.” 

He let’s out a breath that he doesn’t know he was holding and his hand drops. His name really is Logan. There's no familiarity in the back of his mind, no rush of recognition like he felt when he entered Lucas' room nor the clear voice he heard in his head when he saw the photo of Lucia and Wyn. His lack of memory was something that Saint had been trying to put aside for most of the passing year, but now that there is evidence of who he is, and who his family is, all he wants is to _know_. 

He looks at uncle Mick, then, who is near the four empty milk baths at the corner of the jump ship. The ship had always felt so big for him, but now that he’s not alone anymore he can see how limited in space it is. 

“How did you know it was me?” he asks, and uncle Mick looks at him again. 

“Are you kidding me? How old are you now, 13?” Saint shrugs. Probably. “You look _exactly_ like your dad when I met him. Except the eyes, they are all Blondie’s. Besides, I would be a lousy godfather if I didn’t.” 

Saint smiles, getting more comfortable with him. Uncle Mick is the first person that makes him feel closer to home, and it’s a nice feeling. 

“We need to figure out what happened and where the rest of the Snarts are, right?” the man says, and Saint nods. “We are going back to Central City, they have what is necessary to bring your memories back and probably fix Gideon’s problems. Gideon?” 

“Yes, Mr. Rory?” 

“Do you still remember how to get to S.T.A.R. Labs?” 

“I do, Mr. Rory,” she answers de pronto, and he nods. 

“Alright. Logan, you come with me,” he says, walking to the door. Saint frowns. 

“But the ship is faster,” he argues. 

“Exactly,” uncle Mick says agrees. “That’s why we’re using mine. Come on.” 

Saint follows Mick outside and after a moment, a second jump ship appears a few meters from his, which makes the boy’s eyes go wide. 

“Awesome,” he whispers, as if he had never seen something like it. 

“I know, right?” says uncle Mick hitting the identity lock to open the door. The interior of his ship is very similar to the one where Saint used to live. “Are you hungry? We need to go somewhere before we go to the Labs.” 

Oh, Saint _is_ hungry. He’s starving, actually, but he plays it cool. 

“Where are we going first, then?” he asks, choosing one of the seats and lowering the buckle. 

“To your aunt Lisa’s, you know what day is it?” 

Saint raises an eyebrow. 

“Christmas,” he answers. The ship comes to life. 

“Yeah, but whose birthday?” 

“…Landon’s?” he risks, making uncle Mick chuckle. 

“Larson,” _Oh. Right_. "Who else’s?” 

Is _he_ supposed to know? 

“Jesus’?” 

Uncle Mick shakes his head, and the ship lurches up right after Saint’s ship. 

“Your mother’s, kid,” he says, with a little bit of pain in his voice. “It’s Blondie’s birthday as well.”


	5. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm sorry it took a while to post, I'm at the Olympic Games! Everything will get back to normal after the games are over, promise!

It was the beginning of the crisis.

Things weren’t easy before, but all changed after the accident.

There had been a new wave of meta-humans in Central City, and they attacked the University, which would be something easy to handle if only it wasn’t packed with students, and Dinah hadn’t invited her family over to have lunch with her, and Sara and Leonard hadn’t had to leave 5 years old Logan with his grandmother while they fought a bunch of rogues.

At the end of the day, they were all at the hospital, and though Logan only had a scratched elbow, Dinah (who had protected the kid with her own body when necessary) was going through surgery to reconstruct her right knee cap and part of her femur. The more Leonard and Sara thought about what they could have done differently, the more they believed that there was nothing they could do.

After Logan was liberated by the doctor, Leonard took the sleeping boy to the waiting room, where Sara awaited restless. He sat by her side, but said nothing at first. He didn’t know where to start, but she did:

“I'm so done with this place,” she hushed, and Leonard nodded. Hospitals had never been his thing. “You know, my mom was thinking about retiring.”

“Already?” exclaimed Leonard and Sara looked at him.

“She’s been talking about moving on for a while now and I think she’s right,” Sara patted Logan’s curls, trying to comb the messy mane in place unsuccessfully. “I think we should move too. I know for a fact that mom would enjoy some sunny city, and so would I, to be honest.”

“Wait, when you said you are done with this place you mean this city?” he asked, and Sara nodded. “But I love it here.”

“I know, but aren’t you tired of fighting?”

“Sara, to fight is what we do best. You think you would _stand_ being away from it?”

Sara just sighed.

“Lenny,” she said, rubbing her face, tired. “Do you really think we can raise our children in the middle of this warzone that CC has become? I want to be with my mom during her recovery and all. Besides, if we do it right, we can still be of some assistance even if we live in a pretty house of a coast city with dolphins.”

“I’m not moving to Miami, babe,” Leonard warned, and Sara smiled. He was almost convinced.

“There are other cities with dolphins to live, Len. And I think Logan would love it there.”

 

When uncle Mick rings the door bell of the two stories house in the suburban area of Central City, Saint opts to stay a couple of steps behind. That porch isn’t so foreign, he remembers the first time he went there.

_This is what our lives became, sis_ , his father says. He’s sitting on the bench holding baby Larson, aunt Lisa by his side, Logan and Lucia on the steps. _Suburban houses and established families._ Aunt Lisa laughs. _You’ve got a beach house_. His father shakes his head, a smile on his face. _I have a beach house._ Lucia gets up and runs inside to get something, but Logan stays there, looking at the adults. His dad is making faces at the baby. _So much for Captain Cold_ , his aunt jokes and his father laughs. _That’s not even the surprising part, Lisa_ , he says. _The surprising part is that we don’t even mind._

“Mick!” a woman calls as she opens the door. “That was fast. You know you don’t need to knock.”

“Yeah, doll, but this is a special occasion,” says Mick, and he steps to the side revealing Saint, who still is looking at the bench. It’s only the woman’s gasp that makes him look up at her.

Aunt Lisa.

“Oh, my God,” she hushes, covering her mouth with her hands. Everyone seem to recognize him. “Logan.”

She reaches out and cups his cheeks with both hands. He hadn’t noticed that he’d stepped closer.

“Go easy on him, okay?” Mick tells her, as if he himself hadn’t showered the boy with questions just half an hour before.

“He doesn’t remember much.”

“I actually can count my memories in my hands,” Saint informs her, but it doesn’t stop her from pulling him in a tight hug. This time, he reciprocates.

“It’s okay, baby, you are home,” Lisa says, and when she lets go of him, he sees that she’s crying. “You grew so tall.”

“It’s been a while, I heard,” he replies, making her smile despite the tears.

“Yeah, it has,” she, then, looks at uncle Mick. “Where did you find him?”

“At the beach house. He’s been alone, Lis.”

She nods, as if she wasn’t expecting another answer, and then opens the door again.

“Come on in, we haven’t cut the cake yet, are you hungry?” They step inside, and it’s a warm home, with some Christmas decorations in red and green. The air smells like pine, sugar and maple. “Cisco, Mick is back!”

“Already?” a man’s head appears in the corridor, and when he process how many people there is around, he steps in. “Who is the kid who disturbingly looks like Len?”

“I’m Saint,” Saint says, at the same time Lisa and Mick say “It’s Logan,” so he fixes it. “Logan. I’m Logan.”

“Don’t worry, kid, we will help you recover your memory,” uncle Mick says sympathetic as he fishes a phone from his pocket. He looks at Cisco. “I sent the Waverider’s jump ship to the Labs. First thing tomorrow is to get him there and do a check up. Gideon’s main drive was with him, but she is damaged, and we need to fix her. I will call Cait-“

“Wow, dude, you haven’t yet?” uncle Cisco exclaims rather shocked, and uncle Mick glares at him.

“Been a bit busy, if you hadn’t noticed,” and Saint could bet that that discussion could go on forever, if they weren’t interrupted by Lucia, who came to stand by her father.

“Why is everyone here?” she asks, and then sees uncle Mick. Her face lights up. “You came back!”

“Don’t I always?” he replies, and gestures towards the door, where Saint was standing.

Lucia looks at him, and unlike everyone else, she keeps her hands to herself. She stands there, across the hall with her father, and Saint waves a hello.

“You look different,” she says, and he nods.

“So do you,” he replies. The small, smiley girl from his weak memory and dusty photos had now a long black hair past her waist, braided with flowers, and dark eyes almost covered by bangs. She still isn’t very tall, but it was quite the leap from when he last saw her.

After her, comes someone else. She’s tall now, taller than Saint himself, but her hazel eyes are just like he remembers when she lays them on him, and her hair still is beautiful and curly, framing her face. She recognizes him immediately and runs in his direction, capturing him in an embrace. 

“Hi, Wyn,” Saint says, hugging her as well, and someone chuckles.

“Of course he remembers Wyn,” that someone says, and he suspects it’s uncle Cisco.

Wyn steps back, and unlike everyone else, she is smiling.

“It’s so good to see you,” she says. She’s his best friend, Saint knows it in his core. She holds his hand, but before she can move, the question pops out of his mouth.

“Did your father come back?”

The change is subtle, but almost as dense as when-

It’s like his brain freezes, and Saint doesn’t know how to compare it, even though he knows he lived a situation as dense as this moment right here.

“No, not yet,” replies Wyn, but she sounds strong, even calloused. “Come, you must be starving, and Mick brought this casserole that is the best thing ever.”

She drags him by the hand, catching Lucia on the way as well, and he lets her.

“It’s Cait’s molecular recipe,” Mick tells no one in particular, and then looks at his phone. “I will call her.”

 

S.T.A.R. Labs hasn’t changed a thing, but that probably doesn’t mean much, considering that Saint’s memory is as empty as ever. He knows that there are little clues here an there, small bugs in the back of his head tipping him off – this is the control room, that door is what keeps us from uncle Cisco’s cool toys – but that’s about it. He has no clue how they will set his mind back in place.

There are new things too, Saint observes, his eyes wander around the med bay catching little details here and there. He is alone again, because Mick and Cisco are in the engine room trying to fix Gideon, and Stein is analyzing the milk baths, but Caitlin, who was coming from her mother’s at Ivy Town, would arrive at any minute to take care of him.

She gets there a little past nine and opens a big smile when she sees him. Saint doesn’t remember much about Caitlin. She’s wearing a lab coat over a pretty and dark sweater, her hair is shorter and loose on her shoulders.

“Hi,” she greets, opening a drawer and taking a few things she’d need, like gloves and syringes. “I talked to Mick last night, do you prefer to be called Logan or Saint?”

That takes the boy by surprise, no one seemed to care about it, they all just call him Logan, which is alright, but unfamiliar. Saint shrugs.

“Whatever,” he says. “Both names work just fine.”

“Okay,” Caitlin smiles. There’s something different in her, and he can’t place exactly what, but the answer is there, Saint knows. “I’m Caitlin, the doctor, you know that. When did you last eat?”

“Uh… around 11 p.m.”

She nods.

“No breakfast?” he shakes his head no. “Then I’ll take a few blood samples, just to check your health situation, okay? Keep the arm relaxed, which one you prefer?”

“Right arm,” he responds, and she nods again.

“Nothing changed at all,” she jokes. Except that everything changed, and they both know it, but there is pleasure in the simple, constant things. She asks him to lean his arm on some sort of tray/table in front of him, knots his upper arm with a rubber strip, and easily takes four samples of dark blood from him. “I’m doing this first because I brought you some of the delicious French toast that my brother makes, and I’m sure you will want some.”

“I ate your casserole yesterday,” he tells her, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Did you like it? Be honest. Mick usually eats the whole thing, but he doesn’t count,” she hushes the last part, as if it's some secret to keep, and Saint chuckles.

“It’s really good. Better than my mom’s,” he spills the fact without knowing that he knows, and then frowns. Something else comes up. “But it’s not very hard to cook better than my mom.”

“No, it’s not,” Cait says with a giggle, and Saint looks up at her again. She passes a calmness that lulls him. It’s welcoming. “But what Sara lacks in cooking skills, she compensates in-“

“-personality,” he completes. It’s really weird how things keep coming back like this, and he actually feels a bit overwhelmed.

“That’s right,” she agrees. She sounds like they’re making progress, and Saint guess they are, but it still weights on him. She gives him a small ball of cotton to press where the needle went. “Let’s go to the kitchen, and then we do the other exams.”

Larson is at the kitchen too, with a woman that Saint doesn’t know, and Iris, Wynonna’s mom. The bowl of French toasts is already half empty.

“You guys, I told you to wait!” Caitlin exclaims; she takes the bowl from the table and offers it to Saint. He gladly accepts a toast. “Hi Jesse.”

“I came on running, Cait,” the woman he doesn’t know says. It sounds like a joke. She is wearing a red and yellow sort of suit. “A lot of burnt calories to be replaced.”

“And I don’t do wait!” exclaims Larson, mouth full, and the women laugh. He doesn’t remember Saint at all, and all Saint knows about him is baby stuff. It almost feels good to have someone like him around, it leaves the pressure out.  
“How are you feeling, Logan?” the woman, Jesse, asks. “I only saw you once, when you were a baby, tiny cheeky thing. I didn’t want to meet you again like this.”

Confused, Saint looks around.

“Jesse is a speedster from Earth-2,” Iris explains. “She’s been helping us find Barry, Rip and your parents for a while now.”

“And as soon as they told me you were here, I came,” she completes.

“We will run some tests,” Caitlin says, rubbing Saint’s shoulder with a loving gesture. “See if we can make you remember something that would help. But that’s just after you’re fed.”

If they were willing to wait, who is Saint to argue? So he eats. A lot. As if he, Larson and Jesse are in some sort of competition to see who can stuff more of those toasts with coffee before noon. There’s no way to beat a speedster, though, so half a hour later, Saint is being guided back to the med bay and beyond, where he has to change into hospital clothes to go into a machine that will scan his brain.

“Can’t Gideon do that?” he asks, sitting on the hammock, and Cait eyes him.

“She will. But we use her assistance differently from what you had at the Waverider.”

Saint nods, and then lays down. Caitlin leaves the room and the hospital bed slowly slides inside the machine. For a few minutes, all the boy hears is the sounds of the machine, but not long after they start, Cait begins to ask questions.

“So Logan, what do you know about Wyn’s dad?”

“He disappeared in the middle of the crisis,” he answers right away.

“You know why?”

He pauses for an instant, trying to see if the answer is easy to reach. It is.

“He’s the Flash, and the Reverse Flash was hunting him.”

“You know who the Reverse Flash is?”

“Man in yellow,” Saint mumbles. “Dad told me about him, called him a whiny bitch,” he hears laughter. His dad had a lot to say about the Reverse Flash, there is this image in Saint’s head of him going on and on about what a hell of a year it had been under his layer of fear. _The fun about challenging Barry was because he was smart, but Thawne was just a fanatic, and that always comes with bullshit_. “Eobard Thawne.”

The silence that follows indicates that he’s poked into some awful truth.

“Do you remember Rip?” Caitlin asks, and Saint has to think a little harder at this.

There’s something there, someone. He’s got sand hair and a beard, and he kneels down to talk to Logan. _Hello there, young man, are you giving your parents a lot of trouble?_ The boy smiles.

“Give them as much trouble as they gave me, will you?” He says out loud. “A trip.”

“Yeah, he called you on a trip,” it’s uncle Mick who is talking now.

“Rescue,” Saint whispers.

“Yes, a rescue,” Mick agrees. “Does it ring any bell?”

No, it doesn’t. There’s only the big ship, and him holding his mother's hand, and the cool seats. _Are you sure we can make the jump with Sara pregnant?_ His father is very serious when talking to Rip. _It’s harmless, Mr. Snart, it will be just-_

“One jump,” he says, but something about this makes a lump grow in his throat and he gasps.

“Logan?” Caitlin calls out.

There’s something wrong in the bridge, and his father, out of all people, tells him to wait in his room. It’s weird, because dad always let him stay, and teaches him how to fix stuff and learn how to use tools. _Don’t you want to try and call uncle Mick now?_ He does. So he goes to his room and takes his tablet from under the pillow. Uncle Mick is on his speed dial. _Hi buddy!_

“Uncle Mick,” Logan gasps again. His eyes are closed, but he can hear the fuss and voices right outside. He’s moving, but he’s not. _Cait, that’s enough, get him out._

It’s cold and loud and wet, and he has to swallow something. _Sara, take the pill._

_Not now._

_Mom?_

_I’m here, baby. Len, we gotta hurry._

_Almost ready. Did he take it?_

_Yes. Lenny._

_Someone has to slow them down, you finish this._

_No, I’ll go. You are the one who knows what to do with the ship._

_Sara._

_Mom._

_Don’t worry. I love you, baby. I will be right back._

“Mom!”

Someone is holding him, but it’s not his mom. His mom didn’t come back.

“It’s okay, Logan, you are safe,” it’s aunt Caitlin. _Aunt_ Cait.

Logan has to breathe – a lot – until he can open his eyes. He’s still in the room, still in the hospital bed, but now the only loud sound is his breathing. Uncle Mick is right at arms’ reach behind aunt Cait. Logan blinks.

“You guys sorted it out, then,” he says. A fact. And uncle Mick gives him a smile above his worried expression. “Boy or girl?”

Aunt Cait lets go of him and looks at him with a smile of her own.

“How can you tell?”

“The little things. And there are baby toys in the med bay.”

There is something else in uncle Mick’s smile now, as if he didn’t expect anything else from him. _If anyone had doubts you’re a Snart!_ He hands his phone to Logan, and there’s a baby girl as the background picture. She’s got dimpled cheeks and brown hair and eyes.

“Her name is Stella, and she’s 7 months old,” uncle Mick tells him, and Logan looks up at them.

“She looks like you,” he tells aunt Cait. Uncle Mick chuckles.

“Yeah, thanks God.”

She rolls her eyes at him, and rubs Logan’s arm warmly.

“You will meet her soon, she’s at my mom’s, but my brother will bring her to us tonight,” she tells him. “How would you like some hamburgers for lunch?”  
Logan smiles, and wipes the drying tears from his cheeks.

“Go change back into your clothes, kid,” uncle Mick says. “You’re gonna need the stamina for this afternoon.”

“Why?” asks aunt Cait for him. Logan is testing his legs on the cold floor, because his mind still is rather dizzy.

“We recovered Gideon’s memory drive,” uncle Mick replies, and it makes the boy’s head snap up in his direction. “We’re going to find out what the hell happened with that damn ship.”


	6. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever heard about Olympics Hangover? :( My life went back to normal today, guys, it was NOT fun. :(
> 
> This might be the longest chapter you'll ever get. I apologize in advance. Insults are allowed at the comments session.

Sara chose right, the crisis didn’t reach Louisiana. Yet. Between Dinah’s recovery and all the fixing they had to do in the house to welcome the new baby, the Snarts could only keep up with what was going down up north through the reports their friends were sending them.  

It got worse when Barry disappeared, which caused Wally to raise to the occasion, but the Great Lakes area was compromised already.  

Gotham was the second to be taken, closing the ports down past New York till D.C., before it travelled west. Ivy Town and Star City were just a matter of time, followed by Coast City and Metropolis.  

The Flash? Nowhere to be found. And between some capped vigilantes, Amazons and good hearted meta-humans, there wasn’t much left. 

They had watched the chaos from the sidelines until September 2025, when Rip called. He reached out to Mick first, claiming that Gideon was a few hours away from finally locating the point in time where the Flash was left stranded. All he needed was a small team to accompany him in the rescue mission – which was considered to be a simple one by all accounts. 

Leonard and Sara offered their help. They were the best option because they lived far from the crises and all of their friends were busy trying to hold the north together. Since it was a simple mission, no one argued on Logan going along. They’d be back in a few hours, though it would be longer in the Temporal Zone. With that in mind, Dinah also decided to accept a job in National City, so the beach house was empty after they left. 

They parted on the same day, and because Mick and Lisa were on a job, they couldn’t get a ship and go say goodbye. That didn’t stop Lisa from sending a video to them, hidden in an alley of Seattle, wishing them good luck, but Mick? Mick had a face to face with Butch Gilzean, and let’s just say that it left no space for last minute calls. 

“How do you like your bedroom?” Sara asked, sitting on the bed with Logan. The Waverider was in full speed to the Temporal Zone. “Daddy and I will be right in the front door. Isn’t it cool?” 

“It’s super cool,” Logan said, eyes enchanted with the ship. “Did uncle Mick call?” 

“Not yet, but remember how he’s been busy?” the boy nodded. “You can try to call him later.” 

Sara, then, made a face and reached to a spot on her left side, pressing it uncomfortably. 

“You okay, mom?” Logan asked, and she smiled to him. 

“Your brother is quite the kicker, that’s all.” 

She was five months into the pregnancy, and if Lucas was to kick like that so soon, Sara could only predict that the bed rest would come sooner, which was no fun at all. 

“You think I will be able to feel him this time?” asked Logan, reaching his left hand and touching his mom’s bump. She guided him a little to his right until he felt the small counter-pressure of the baby move, and his face lit up. It was the first time that Lucas was big enough to the point where someone besides Sara could feel him. “Cool.” 

“ _Snarts_ _, mind joining_ _me?_ ” Rip’s voice came from the coms and Sara got up and offered a hand to her older son. 

They were the first to arrive, so Sara made sure to strap Logan to one of the chairs, seeing that they’d probably jump any minute, before sitting on the chair Rip has adapted for her so that it wouldn't press her baby bump. Smiling at her son, she crossed her legs and waited for her husband's arrival before doing anything else. Leonard came right on cue. 

“I checked the jump ship,” he said, as soon as he reached the bridge. “Interesting changes. Are you sure we can make the jump with Sara pregnant?” 

“It’s harmless, Mr. Snart,” Rip replied confidently, circling the holotable and stopping in front of Leonard. “It will be just one jump. On the trip back.” 

“How come?” asked Sara curiously, and Rip looked from her to Len with something so close to certainty that it was almost disturbing. Rip was _never_ that sure of anything. 

“Because, you see,” the Captain explained. “To get to where the Flash is, we won’t be able to do that by jumping. The timing in this mission is very important, and we can only do it right by _drifting_.” 

“Drifting?” echoed Leonard frowning. Rip nodded. 

“Yes. That’s why I asked Mr. Rory to provide us some milk baths,” he seemed excited, and it made Leonard and Sara feel safe already, even if they were only beginning to be introduced to the mission. “We will get into a time stream that will lead us straight to Mr. Allen, and since we have no way of telling how long it will last, we’ll go into the milk baths.” 

“I noticed you put Gideon’s main drive there as well,” Leonard interrupted. “Is there a reason behind it?” 

“There is, Leonard,” it was rare of Rip to call him by his first name, but they had come a long way. “We won’t be able to go in with the whole Waverider once we arrive. Gideon is programmed to wake us up when we get there, and then we take the jump ship to go rescue him. We then go back to the ship and jump back to 2025. One jump.” 

“It does sound pretty simple,” Sara agreed, and Leonard nodded. 

Rip took a tablet from the table and handed it to Leonard. 

“What is this about?” the former crook asked, frowning at the small object, arms crossed. 

“I thought we had stopped pretending we don’t know you’re a genius engineer about five years ago,” the Captain said with the right dose of disdain, and Len rolled his eyes. “I need you to get familiarized with the jump ship’s new system, as well as Gideon’s. You, Mr. Snart, are my back up plan.” 

“Why the hell we need a back up plan?” inquired Leonard, but he took the tablet anyway. 

“You know better than anyone, Leonard, that there is no plan so good it can’t be disrupted.” 

 

For two days, all seemed to go as planned. The Temporal Zone looked fine, they were only a few hours from the time stream that would lead them to whenever Barry was, and they had been getting news that Mick’s friends from the JSA had finally make it work along with the JLA, and the crisis was receding – slowly, but gradually. As soon as they got back home, they would be able to help more. 

It was Logan who saw that they had company. 

The holotable had been glitchy, so Leonard got the tool box and his seven-years-old to fix it. With the top of the table open and Logan siting on its edge, Leonard gave instructions. 

“Now, again,” Len said. “What’s your good hand?” 

“Left!” Logan answered right away, and his father offered him a small screwdriver that fit perfectly in his hand.  

“What did you see in the blueprint that is different here?” 

Logan looked down at the table, scanning the maze of wires and chips, trying to overlay it with the data his dad had shown on the tablet. It took him only a few seconds to spot the loose tiny black square to his right and the two burnt wires near his father.  

“Here,” Logan pointed. “There, and there.” 

Leonard smiled. 

“Very good, you’re a natural.” 

He instructed Logan on what to do and how to do it, and let the kid replace one of the wires alone while he went to grab some juice and sandwiches for them in the kitchen. Alone on the bridge, Logan worked in silence, and he was half an inch from finishing the replacement when a small tremor almost made him lose his balance. 

Distracted, Logan looked over the front glass, to the dark green atmosphere outside and he easily spotted another ship, even though it was well hidden between the time clouds. 

“Daddy?” called Logan, a mix of curiosity and fear in his voice. “Gideon, where’s my dad?” 

“I'm right here,” Leonard said, getting in with a tray in his hands. “You finished?” 

“Almost. Did you see that?” the boy pointed outside, and his father got closer to him before following his direction. “That’s another ship, right?” 

Leonard was frowning, and it felt like the quiet moment stretched for too long for Logan’s taste. 

“Gideon, tell Rip and Sara to come over,” Leonard said soberly, and then he took Logan in his arms and put the kid down. “Here,” he exchanged the screwdriver for a panini and a cup of grape juice, and Logan sat on a chair to eat. “I will finish this.” 

They had just begun to hear the voices of Sara and Rip coming to the bridge when Leonard put the top of the holotable back in place. 

“What is it, Leonard?” asked Rip as soon as he crossed the door. 

Leonard had his back to the glass that gave them a view to the outside world, and he had just bitten his sandwich, but he managed to speak anyway. 

“I’m guessing you know if they are friends or foes,” he pointed behind him, and both Rip and Sara frowned. 

“Looks like a ship wreck,” Sara commented, narrowing her eyes. 

“So does the Waverider,” commented Leonard, and the fact that Rip didn’t try to come up with a counter-argument spoke wonders. “Pirates?” 

“I’m not sure…” Rip replied frowning. “Gideon?” 

“From the data I gather, that’s the Flock, a ship from New York, 2432. It disappeared for years, and the crew was supposedly dead. The ship was never found nor went back to its era.” 

“Then what the bloody hell is it doing _here_?” wondered Rip. “Did anyone try to contact us?” 

“No, captain.” 

“Let’s hope it _stays_ that way,” cut Leonard. “I’d very much like to go back home asap.” 

It didn’t.  

Within a couple of hours, the strange wrecked ship came to life, and since the Waverider was submitted to the pulse of the time stream, there was no way they could turn around.  

So the small staff of the Waverider waited for contact with tense shoulders and anxious eyes. The air was very dense among the adults, and little Logan didn’t understand why. 

“Logan,” said Leonard from the door of Rip’s study. “Why don’t you go wait in your room?” 

The small boy looked up at his father frowning. 

“Am I in trouble?” he asked confused. 

“Why would you be in trouble?” his dad replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.  

“I don’t know.” 

Leonard’s smile grew a bit larger. 

“You are not in trouble. Don’t you wanna try and call uncle Mick now?” 

Logan’s face lit up. 

“Yes! I will do that!” 

Excited with the idea of talking with his godfather, Logan ran to his room, jumped onto his bed and took the tablet from under his pillow. Uncle Mick was on his speed dial, and he picked up in the second ring. 

“ _Hey, buddy_!” greeted the man with a smile. Someone was stitching a cut in his forehead. 

“Is that aunt Cait patching you up?” the kid asked, and the camera turned to her for a few seconds. She looked busy, but smiled anyway. 

“ _Hi, Logan_!” she greeted, and then the camera was back to uncle Mick. 

“ _How is the_ _time ship?_ ” he asked. “ _Kinda_ _hard to believe that thing still works_.” 

“Daddy said the same,” Logan replied. He really had, right on Rip’s face, and it turned into one of the most raging and interesting dinner discussion Logan had ever witnessed (considering his family, it said something). “But the ship is cool, I like it.” 

“ _Of course you do! You’re a seven years old who watches way too much_ _SyFy_ _channel!_ ” uncle Mick joked, and Logan laughed, but then he lost his balance with a tremor in the ship that made him lay down on his mattress and laugh even more. “ _Was that the ship_?” asked Mick frowning a bit. Logan saw how Caitlin touched between his eyebrows, and then his uncle’s expression relaxed a bit. 

“It was the ship,” the boy answered. “It’s been doing it. Rip says that it’s because we are entering in the time stream.” 

Uncle Mick seemed serious and thoughtful, but he didn’t say much about any of the things that were going on in his head. 

“How did you get that nasty cut?” Logan asked. 

“ _This is nothing_ ,” uncle Mick replied. 

“ _This is sixteen stitches,_ ” corrected aunt Cait, and Mick shrugged. 

“ _You should_ _have_ _seen the other guy_ ,” He dismissed. “ _I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you guys left, though_.” 

“It’s alright, we’ll see each other soon,” Logan was sure of it. 

Uncle Mick smiled again, but before he could say anything else, Leonard strutted in Logan’s room. 

“Logan, you need to come with me,” his father said, and the boy looked up from his call. 

“I’m talking to uncle Mick,” he pointed at the tablet, and even though Leonard smiled, he didn’t look less tense. 

“Hi, Mick, everything alright?” asked the former crook sitting by Logan’s side, and Mick shrugged. 

“ _Yeah. What about you_?” 

“Peachy,” replied Leonard, and on the other side of the call, Mick frowned again. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but we gotta go. Talk to you later?” 

“ _Of course_ ,” Mick said, and Logan was distracted by the distress in his father’s posture, so he didn’t even see that the call was finished without anyone saying goodbye. 

Leonard left the tablet on the bed, got up and took Logan in his arms. 

“We need to go, son,” he said, leaving the room and quickly walking to the core of the ship. 

“Why?” asked Logan. He didn’t even have time to put some shoes on, and suddenly everything seemed urgent. “Is something wrong?” 

“I’m not sure,” his dad said, and the kid _felt_ that it wasn’t completely true. “But we better go anyway.” 

“Is this about the other ship?” 

Leonard hesitated. And then- 

“Yes.” 

They reached the jump ship and Sara was already there; she dropped her staff to take Logan from Leonard’s arms, and sat him in one of the seats. The lights were acting funny. 

“Where is Rip?” Asked Leonard, already going to the control table and lying under it to do what he had to do. 

“He stayed, to see what they wanted,” Sara answered, something else in her voice. 

“You mean ‘to get himself killed’?” Corrected Leonard, and Sara said nothing. “Stupid captain code.” 

Leonard finished his rewiring, and when he emerged from under the table, Sara was making Logan drink one of the four vials they had on the table. He removed his parka, leaving it on one of the chairs. 

“You have to drink everything, baby,” Sara said, and her husband moved to the wiring on Gideon’s system. 

“May I ask you what changes you’re doing, Mr. Snart?” asked the A.I. calmly. 

“I’m setting your reboot,” he told her. Sara was leading Logan into one of the filled milk baths, and not so far away they heard shouts. 

“Why are you rebooting her?” asked the kid worried. 

“It’s reversible,” Leonard said. “And it’s necessary.” 

“Why?” insisted Logan. No one answered him. 

“Did you give him the pill?” asked Leonard, and Sara shook her head before she reached for a little box that had 4 yellow pills inside. “Some water, please, Gideon?” 

A small door opened by the milk baths with a water bottle inside. Leonard took it and tossed it to Sara, and then she gave the pill to Logan. 

“This is the last one, baby,” she made him take it, and then looked outside, to the corridor. “Where the hell is Rip? Gideon?” 

“He's not coming,” Gideon said. 

“Why?” asked Logan, but again he got no answer, only this time his parents exchanged a meaningful look. _If something happens, Gideon, don’t tell Logan. Even if he_ _insists_. 

“Sara, take the pill,” Leonard said. The shouts were getting louder. 

“Not now,” she replied, pushing Logan down the water of the milk bath. He refused to lay down. 

“Mom?” he asked, sitting up on the tub, his hands in the water. At least it looked like water, but the texture was off, more like some sort of gel. 

“I’m here, baby,” Sara said, caressing his cheek lovingly. “Len, we gotta hurry.” 

“Almost ready,” he informed, moving to the identification lock. “Did he take it?” 

“Yes,” whoever was making all that noise was definitely in their corridor now. “Lenny.” 

“Someone has to slow them down,” he said, one eye outside, the other on his family. “Come, you finish this.” 

“No, I’ll go,” Sara caught her staff from the floor. “You are the one who knows what to do with the ship.” 

“Sara,” Leonard said, worry all over him. 

“Mom,” Logan called, and she, who already was by the door, looked back at him. 

“Don’t worry. I love you, baby. I will be right back.” 

She went without further words, and still clearly worried, Leonard finished pulling the wires from the lock. 

“Why are you doing this, dad?” asked Logan, his voice small. 

Leonard put the plaque back in place covering the mess he made, and then knelt by Logan’s tub. 

“Because it’s important to be out of here,” he said, one hand pushing back the short curls of Logan’s hair. He took a small needle from the side of the tub, it was connected to the milk bath’s system. “We have a chance.” 

“What about Wyn’s father?” the kid asked. Leonard sighed. 

“Each thing in its time,” he said, and then Sara’s voice came through the coms. 

“Lenny,” she sounded out of breath. “Do it.” 

“Do what?” Logan asked, and there was a palpable pain in his father’s eyes when he looked at him. 

“This is gonna hurt a little, okay?” he said, reaching for the back of Logan’s neck and pushing the hair up before he inserted the needle in. 

It actually hurt a lot, because the needle was right in his nerve system, and the child cried out, which made Leonard look even more pained. 

“Shh, I’m sorry,” he said under his breath, his forehead touching his son’s. “I’m so sorry, I have to do this, don’t,” he held Logan’s hands to stop him from trashing. “Look at me,” Leonard said, and his blue eyes looked at him. “I love you. You’re gonna be alright, I promise.” 

“Okay, daddy,” Logan said, voice even smaller. “I love you too.” 

Leonard nodded. 

“Gideon?” 

“I’m on it, Mr. Snart,” she said, and a liquid started to be pumped through the needle to Logan. His eyes started to drop, and Leonard slowly laid him down the tub. 

“Sleep tight, baby.” 

Leonard hurried outside, closing the door behind him and authorizing the launch of the jump ship before he ran in Sara’s direction. She was fighting three people, which would be easier if she didn’t have to worry about protecting her baby bump. Two of them were iced before they even noticed that Leonard was there, but the third one used the quick distraction to push Sara away. 

In no time, Leonard was over him, punching the guys face over and over until they heard more noise. 

“Gideon?” asked Sara, getting up; Leonard had his gun pointed at the guy’s bloody face. 

“There are two more alive, and they are coming in your direction,” Gideon informed. Leonard pulled the trigger. “They seem to have a particular interest on the jump ship.” 

“Well, they won’t get it,” said Leonard, looking back at Sara to confirm. She was holding her baby bump, and there were bruises on her face, but after his look, she started to take the weapons from the bodies on the floor. 

The other two invaders were dead before they could say “Oh-oh.” After that, and only after that, Sara made a sound that indicated that she was in some sort of pain, which made Leonard turn to her immediately. 

“What is it?” he questioned, and she let him guide her to the med bay. “I told you to stay with Logan.” 

“You needed to have everything ready for take off,” she argued, and he led her to one of the beds. 

“Gideon, do as scan on Sara and the baby while I will check on Rip,” Leonard said; he held Sara’s hand a moment too long before letting go, and then practically ran to the bridge. 

There where bodies _everywhere_. The staff of the Flock consisted of seventeen people, and they were all dead. Officially. 

So was Rip. 

“You stupid courageous captain,” Leonard said, kneeling by Rip’s body. He’d been shot quite a few times, there was blood all around. His eyes were open, so Leonard closed them. 

“Mr. Snart?” called Gideon. 

“Yes?” 

“I only have a hour and thirty-four minutes of contact with the Waverider left,” she said. 

“What’s going on with Sara?” he asked. 

“She’s having a miscarriage,” she informed, and Leonard took a deep breath. 

“Can you save them?” 

“I can try,” Gideon offered, and Leonard chose to ignore the tone of lost cause that the A.I. used. 

“Start on her, while I put these idiots on the corridor with the others. Once they are all there, and I’m with Sara, you open the hatch.” 

Leonard, then, started with Rip, sitting him on one of the chairs, and buckling him up. After that, it took him 15 minutes to move all the other bodies, but he was as fast as he could. As soon as he was inside the med bay, the hatch was opened, and the dead intruders were sucked out of there. 

None of it mattered, because Sara was in great pain. 

“What do I do?” Leonard asked right away, hurrying to wash his hands. 

“I induced the labor-“ started Gideon, and Leonard looked at Sara alarmed. 

“It’s the best option,” she said through her teeth, and he stood by her side, held the hand she offered to him. “Help me out of these pants?” 

He did, and he kept on following Gideon and Sara’s instructions, trying to check all the time if both Sara and Lucas were fine, but Gideon kept saying that she couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat. 

It was excruciating for both of them how time stretched, how much pain Sara was feeling and how their older son wasn’t with them. They had agreed to send Logan back home and that they’d meet him there in a little while. They could go to the vanishing point, fix the ship, get themselves a new A.I. and find Barry, but everything spun out of control really easily. 

It took Lucas forty-three minutes to slide on Leonard’s hands, small, bloody and purple. Sara was awfully quiet, and despite Leonard and Gideon’s attempts to make the little boy breathe- 

He fit exactly in Leonard’s hand, a perfect little boy with all his fingers and all his toes, but an incomplete set of lungs. They had listened to his strong and fast heartbeat only three days ago, but now- 

His hair was blonde, and he had a lot of it. Logan didn’t have that much hair when he was born. Lucas had a dimple on his chin, and freckles on his cheeks, he- 

“Mr. Snart?” called Gideon. Even she sounded quiet. With a deep breath, Leonard stopped looking at the baby in his hands and fixed his eyes on Sara. She wasn’t looking at him, her face turned to the other side. 

“Yes, Gideon?” 

“I have nineteen minutes left,” she informed, and after a pause. “I also determined that the Reverse Flash can be found in New York, May 2432.” 

At that, Sara looked up. 

“When did the Flock lifted off?” asked Sara. 

“July 2432.” 

“And when did Thawne left his timeline to go chase Barry in 2024?” asked Leonard. 

“August 2432,” answered Gideon, and Leonard and Sara looked at each other, and then at Lucas. 

“Gideon, is Sara strong enough to jump? Can you make a jump?” asked Leonard. 

“She is, due to the natural labor, and I can, but the minute I do, we'll lose all contact,” she said. “When do you want to go?” 

“May 2432,” Sara answered. “To stop that son of a bitch.” 

Gideon hesitated. 

“If you stop Thawne from going back in time and killing Mr. Allen’s mother, the consequences-“ 

“ _I don’t care_ about the consequences, Gideon!” exclaimed Sara. “He’s responsible for this,” she pointed at Lucas. 

“But you might never know each other,” Gideon continued. “You might never get together, if you change Mr. Allen’s fate.” 

Sara and Leonard took one precious minute to _look_ at the other and consider. 

“How much time we have left?” Leonard asked. 

“Twelve minutes.” 

Sara nodded. Leonard nodded. 

“Set the course,” he said, and thank God A.I.s were made to follow orders. 

“Give him here,” Sara said, and Leonard got closer to her, handed her the baby. She took him with shaky fingers, and he kissed her forehead. “Go. I will be right there.” 

Leonard left, and because of that he didn’t see how his wife broke down in tears holding her little boy. And she didn’t see him crying as well as he checked Rip’s safe belt, and authorized the procedures in the captain’s chair. Lucas had been _so_ wanted. How was that _fair_? Even thought they tried to remember that Logan was fine, it still was hard. 

Sara arrived at the bridge. She was pale and shaking, but had changed into different clothes. She sat not on the adapted seat Rip had set for her pregnant body, but in one of the normal ones. She tried not to look at Rip. Husband and wife nodded again, silence filling the big ship in terrible ways. 

“Let’s go,” Leonard say, pushing the button that made the chair turn. After the jump, he’d have to pilot manually, and it was a good thing that Mick taught him so much about time travelling. “And Gideon?” 

“Yes, Mr. Snart?” 

“Don’t tell Logan. We’ll be home soon,” if there was a home to go back to, if they survived. But no one needed to say that part. 

For the last time, the Waverider time jumped. And the recording on Gideon’s memory drive was over. 

 

Silence fills the control room of S.T.A.R. Labs when the screen goes black. Lisa gasps, covering her mouth with her hand, and Cisco looks at her from his seat in the back of the room. He’s holding Larson, who is smart enough to know that his mom doesn’t get that upset over nothing.  

No one knows what to say, no one dares to look at Logan, who is sitting on top of a table, legs crossed Indian style, back straight.  

Out of everyone, the one who can’t stand it and leaves is Mick. Caitlin mentions to go after him, but her brother arrives right in time to bring her Stella. She’s a big baby, with brown curls and rosy cheeks, and she’s sleeping soundly and unaware. 

“Is everything alright?” Cait’s brother asks, and she shakes her head no before she thanks him for taking care of Stella. 

So it’s a couple of minutes until she finds Mick down the basement, where all the equipment to establish breeches between worlds still was settled. She seats on the stairs with him, and he is silent and he is crying. It doesn't take long for him to talk, though. 

“He’s gonna want to go find his parents,” Mick says. 

“How do you know?” asks Caitlin frowning. “Logan hadn’t said a word.” 

Mick scoffs. 

“He is fucking Leonard’s kid, Cait! You know what was the first thing Len did when we got our hands on a time ship?” she does. “He tried to fix his family! What makes you think Logan won’t do the same?” 

“Mick…” Caitlin tries. 

“It’s a dead end, babe, they are dead,” he says, wiping his eyes nervously. 

“You don’t know that,” she argues. 

“I do know! I know!” Mick clutches the shirt above his chest. “Lisa does too, didn't you see?” 

“How could you know?” Caitlin tries again. “They went to 2432. For all we know, they got stranded there, like Logan was stranded somewhere else.” 

Mick is just shaking his head, and the movement, since they are so close, makes the baby start to fuss. Doesn’t Caitlin know already, that the only way to stop Len and Blondie from doing what they had to do and going back to their family was killing them? And they hadn’t changed the past. Simple math. 

“Mick,” she calls, and when he looks at her, he knows that she knows. She kisses his cheek, one hand in his hair, and he closes his eyes for a couple of seconds before he looks down at their baby. 

“I’ll be fine,” he tells Caitlin, and then reaches for Stella. Her brown eyes are sleepy, but glued on him, chubby fingers reaching for his face. In some ways, he really will be fine. But in others… Mick looks back as if the Snarts will show up, any of them, and sighs. He won’t.


	7. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for the delay! And this chapter isn't even long enough to justify anything! I'm really sorry.  
> Thank you for everyone who decided to read this fic. We are really, really close to the ending! I'll work really hard to write faster and post the next chapter sooner, okay?
> 
> Leave a comment at the end if you must, even if it's to complain to me about what a terrible and inconsiderate writer I am.
> 
>  **Last thing** : I'm starting to take commissions. So if you have any interest in helping me, just click [HERE](http://breakthestrutura.tumblr.com/commissions) to know how it will work.
> 
> See you guys soon, and don't forget the Captain Canary Awards, it starts in a few days! I'm so excited!!!!

It was about a year and a half ago when God knows what got into Mick and Caitlin that led them to agree to stay with Lucia and Larson for a couple of days while Lisa and Cisco went to a meeting in Star City. 

Don’t get it wrong, Mick loved the kids, he’d do anything for them, and perhaps that would be the main reason why he felt a little uneasy. 

However, it was a pleasure to have the kids around. Mick and Cait took turns go get and take them from school, cook meals, put them to bed. It was only when they had homework to do that Mick tried to hide from them. 

“What are you doing here?” Caitlin said coming to the kitchen. “It’s my turn to cook tonight.” 

“I don’t mind cooking,” Mick said too fast, and Cait narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms. He didn’t look at her, just analyzed the items in their fridge, so she looked back to their living room where Lucia had her math books open. “You know, Tia was asking about you.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Mick replied, taking butter, asparagus, bacon, and a piece of fillet mignon and putting them on the sink. 

“She wants you to help with her homework.” 

Mick just hummed, going back to the fridge to get basil, garlic, onions and fresh Rosemary; but Caitlin took everything from his hands. 

“Michael,” she warned, and he finally looked at her. 

“She wants help with history and math,” he basically whined, and if Caitlin wasn’t being serious about that chat, she’d laugh at him. 

“So?” 

“You think I can keep up? She’s Lis and Cisco’s child,” he argued. 

“She’s nine,” replied Caitlin skeptically. 

“Did you miss the part about Tia being Lis and Cisco’s?” 

Caitlin leaned back, mostly to look up at him better, arms still crossed. Mick crossed his arms as well, but he couldn’t be half as intimidating than the doctor. 

“You’re _not_ stupid, Mick,” she said matter-of-factly, and after a few seconds, he sighed. 

“ _Fine_!” he complained, and then put a lemon in her hand. “Watch me make an ass of myself.” 

While he went to the living room and sat on the sofa by Lucia’s side, Caitlin smiled. 

“Hey Sonny,” she called the younger Ramon kid. “Want to help me make dinner?” 

“Do I get a pass on homework?” Larson asked excited and she shook her head. 

“You get to do it later, and I will help you, what about that?” she suggested, and he thought about it for a couple of seconds before he smiled. 

“Deal!” 

On the following morning, Mick woke up with a message from Lisa telling him that they were at home already. He told them not to worry, that they’d take the kids home that afternoon, so the couple could rest. Only after he hit send that he realized that Caitlin was already up, which was normal in a week day, and happened every now and then on weekends, so didn’t make much difference until she showed up five minutes later carrying a tray with his breakfast.  

“Good morning!” she greeted, and Mick raised an eyebrow at her. “The kids are still asleep, but…” she set the tray down the bed between them. 

“Eggs, and bacon, and pancakes, and blueberry jam…” he said, looking through the contents of his breakfast. “Avocado vitamin?” 

“With apple, banana and papaya,” she smiled. Caitlin had made him all his favorites. “For my man.” 

“Well, it looks delicious,” he said, and she leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. “And knowing you, it probably is.” 

He cut a piece of bacon and dipped it in the egg yolk, but it was only when he had his mouth full that he noticed that Caitlin was looking at him expectantly. 

Mick chewed slower, eyeing her suspicious. 

“Okay, what are you trying to bribe me into doing with this?” he inquired, and Caitlin widened her eyes almost comically, shaking her head. 

“Me? Bribing? No, not at all,” she lied very badly, and sat closer to him, almost in front of him, right hand on his shoulder, and he raised an eyebrow. “Nothing but maybe… some extra… diaper changes during the night, I don’t know.” 

Caitlin let the words out very carefully. She had been seeing Mick with kids every since Logan was born. It wasn’t neither how nor why she fell in love with him (damn, falling in love with him was not in her plans _at all_ ), but it was part of how she saw that he was a good man, a person who cared. It’d taken him a real long time to tell her what caused all the change (Star City 2046, the pirates, Len choosing Sara over him, and then the rest – the Time Masters, and the lifetimes, and the rancor -, and then the redemption: at the Oculus, Vandal Savage, the JSA and more, time after time after time), and an even longer time to let her in, but they had been making progress. 

They were doing that dance for almost eight years now, and it was not like she blamed Barry or the Snarts’ disappearance, but both things sent Mick on a spiral that slowed things down and postponed their relationship in a couple of years. 

Despite all the time they knew each other, it was only a couple of years before that they actually got married in a small court house of Ivy Town, with – believe it or not - her mother’s blessing and all. They were good for each other. 

That being a fact, Caitlin still had no idea how Mick would react to the news. They never talked about having kids, though she used to want one, back when Ronnie was alive. So many years had passed that it stopped being an option in her head, a baby (though it was no lie that she looked at her brother’s newborn with a bit of longing), until it happened. 

So she didn’t know what to expect from Mick, but she didn’t expect him to stop eating and to seat so still, so quietly. 

“Say something,” Caitlin practically whispered, her hand sliding from his shoulder to his chest. 

Mick put his hand over hers and squeezed gently, just to remove it from him the following moment. 

“I…” he said pushing the tray aside. “…gotta go. But I’ll be back,” he quickly added, when he saw the hurt in her eyes. “Real quick, I promise.” 

Which, to be honest, he wasn’t sure it would be true. He wasn’t sure of anything ever when it came to Caitlin, she had a way of making him put his guard down that was unsettling yet amazing. Mick had no idea how it happened, but he had fallen in love with her, madly. 

Kids, on the other hand? They’d never talked about it, and despite the fact that he loved the Snart kids to pieces, he never thought he’d have a child of his own, it just never seemed like an option, not before the Legends, nor after. 

So Mick didn't know what to say or what to do when Caitlin told him she was pregnant. He was certainly too old to have kids, right? Too unstable to be a father figure. Too damaged.  

By the time he got in his car and drove to Lisa’s house, Mick had a whole case of hows and whys that pregnancy was a bad idea, but after he knocked and a tired Lisa opened the door, his mind seemed to go blank. 

“Hey, I thought you said you’d bring the kids later,” was the first thing she said, ignoring how Mick nervously messed his short hair. 

“That’s right, they’re still sleeping,” he replied almost casually despite his posture. “It’s just me,” he explained when Lisa looked at his car confused. 

Lisa looked at him and said nothing. She was holding a coffee mug that smelled so good it made Mick regret not to have had breakfast at home. And then he realized that he owned her some explanation. 

“Cait is pregnant,” Mick said in one breath. Lisa’s eyes widened, and he immediately continued. “Which is crazy, right? I mean, a baby? _Me_ with a baby? Of my own? When is it a good idea? I can’t _raise_ a child. Like, it’s different with Tia, and Sonny and Wyn, I get to give them back to you at the end of the day. And you won’t _believe_ it, but Tia had the _audacity_ to ask me to help with homework!” 

“Which subjects?” Lisa asked calmly, and sipped her coffee. 

“Math and history,” he answered automatically, and she raised an eyebrow. 

“You do remember that Lucia is nine, right?” 

Mick frowned. 

“So?” 

“Stop trying to sell me that you’re stupid, I’ve known you since I was born, I _know_ you,” she said, and it sounded like an ultimate. “Besides, I doubt there’s a person in this timeline that knows history better than you, so quit making a scene.” 

“That’s not the point-“ He tried to say, but Lisa wasn’t having it. 

“Didn’t Caitlin tell you that already? _Didn’t she_?” 

Mick grunted. 

“Yes,” he answered, clearly unhappy to be corned so fast. 

Lisa, then, headed to the bench of the porch and sat down, a softer look in her face as Mick followed her. She even dared to smile. 

“What’s so funny?” he challenged, but he could never intimidate Lisa, not when he was the one who helped Lenny take care of her when their mother died, and definitely not when she remembered so well that he once could never deny her requests to go pig riding. 

“You,” she replied smiling more. “Freaking out for no reason. Also because you’re the eldest of us, and the latest to have kids.” 

Mick shook his head. 

“Lis, don’t you get it? I can’t have a kid!” 

“You certainly can, you just told me Cait is preggers.” 

“Yeah, I _can_ , but I _shouldn’t_ ,” He corrected. 

“Why not?” and at that, she sounded offended, even. 

“I won’t do it right, I won’t know how,” he confessed. 

“Bullshit,” Lisa called leaning against the back of the bench and staring at him that way Snarts did, as if they were so sure of what they were talking about that you can’t help but think that you were wrong all along. “Haven’t you ever noticed? You needed Lenny to keep you in check, but you were the one who took care of us. And when Barry disappeared, you and Cait took care of Wyn while Iris couldn’t. I can’t even begin to explain how much I appreciate what you do for Tia and Sonny. You’re good at it, Mick, you’ve always been; it’s just that you’re too busy pretending to be all tough macho.” 

Mick raised an eyebrow at Lisa, who just sipped her coffee smiling a little. 

“These kids, Mick,” she continued putting her mug down. “They are hard work. Damn, Larson drives me crazy sometimes. But they are _good_ , they are proof that we can do something _right_. Remember Leonard when Logan was born?” he remembered. “And now they have at least two kids, you know, when they come back. And I have two kids. And you’re going to have your kid. We couldn’t do normal twenty years ago, but now we can, and it’s alright. It’s actually great. What’s so funny?” Lisa asked, when she saw Mick smile. 

“You,” he answered. “Being sentimental over children.” 

Lisa’s smile widened. 

“Have you seen their faces? They are too damn cute!”  

“Tell me that after you’ve had your kids back for twelve hours,” he dared, and she gave him the tongue. 

“I have two damn good kids, okay?” she argued. “But how are you and Cait going to celebrate? Better yet, how are you going to _announce_!” 

Mick hummed, and avoided eye contact, and Lisa sat straighter, already sensing what happened. 

“Michael Anthony Rory,” she said, and pointed to his car. “Go be with your wife. Right now.” 

There was a reason Mick always turned to the Snarts when he didn’t know what to do, and it was because they knew which way to point him. That’s why he was so engaged in bringing Len and Blondie back, that’s why he drove to Lisa’s that morning. 

He went home. Caitlin had put Lucia and Larson to make cookies they’d take home to “welcome” their parents. They ate the leftovers of the previous night’s dinner with some last minute saffron risotto that was Mick’s specialty for lunch. When they took the kids home that afternoon, Cisco had a box ready for them. It was Larson’s crib. Later that night, Mick posted a photo of Cait among crib parts on Instagram that read ‘ _Think_ _twice before accept_ _ing_ _a gift from an engineer_ ’, announcing to the world that Stella was coming, even though they didn’t know the sex of the baby yet, let alone which name it’d have. 

All he knew, at the time, was that Lisa was right, and that he could do it, and that he would find Len, Sara, Logan and Lucas so they could all do it together. 

 

A whole hour has passed when Mick, Cait and Stella come back to the main room of S.T.A.R. Labs where there is a bit of a frenzy going on. Jax and Stein are engaged in a discussion with Lisa that seem to be the core of everything else, and it still takes a while for Mick to realize that something is wrong. 

“HEY!” he calls, making everyone shut up and look at him. “ _Where the hell is Logan_?” 

No one have an answer. And it’s up to him to put everything in order again. 

 

Logan doesn’t have to go far. After he gets Gideon’s main drive in uncle Cisco’s work room, he walks the corridors hopping that his memory won’t fail him this time.  

When he reaches the spot that he thinks is the right one, he presses his palm against the wall, and a door opens. It closes again right after he steps inside and he reaches for the control of Other Gideon. She comes to life right away. 

“Hello, Mr. Snart,” she greets, much like his Gideon. 

“Calm me Logan, please,” the boy requests, and she nods. “You are from 2432, right? Your technology?” 

“Yes, Logan,” Gideon said. 

“If I give you some info, could you scan the timeline to find a couple of people for me?” asks Logan. 

“Due to the destruction of the Oculus in 2016, the manipulation of the Wellspring is not very efficient, but I can certainly try,” she tells him, and he immediately starts to connect his Gideon’s drive to Other Gideon’s. “Who would you like me to find?” 

“Leonard and Sara Snart from May 2432 and on,” he says, his voice firm, certain. “Oh, and find me the instructions to manipulate Gibson, please.” 

“Gibson is Mr. Rory’s A.I.,” Gideon states, and Logan nods. 

“Yes,” he says, stepping back. He observes the work he’s done to try and upgrade his Gideon’s drive and feels good about his job. He has something big to do now, and he needs all the help he can get. “Exactly.” 


	8. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this is unbelievable. I just won the Captain Canary Awards for best underrated fic! How did that happen??? :O  
> I'm so surprised and amazed and thankful for everyone who voted, even though it's been a real long time since I last updated this fic. I'm sorry it's taking me so long, I really am :( It's just that the whole Olympic Games thing messed with my schedule and I didn't fully recover yet. Besides, I had 3 fics in the ending process and I kind of couldn't focus on any.  
> BUT I'm back. I mean, _getting back_ in track with my writing, and the next chapter is almost 1/3 through, so I'm updating in honor of the return of our show!  
>  Thank you all again for the patience, and I hope you like it. The fic is almost ending, and I promise that I'll try not to disappoint yall.

The first thing Leonard and Sara did when they landed in a green hill of Colorado was to dig two graves. They carved Rip’s and Lucas’ names in two stones and gave them a proper burial.  

The Waverider was cloaked when they walked to the nearest city, where they got some money (and by ‘get’ they meant ‘stole’) to eat and get Sara examined, because she was really weak after the miscarriage and the jump. 

It took them almost a week to be ready and set to go to New York, but the time was optimized, for they managed to put together a detailed plan to get Thawne once and for all – even if it killed them, even if it meant that they wouldn’t ever meet, nor have the beautiful family they had. 

Something about the Snarts: they hardly needed words to understand – themselves, each other, the world. Even if Sara had come from a completely different environment, two passages through the League and a resurrection changed her. 

Two heartbroken people took a train to New York in May, 2432. No one knew what the serious couple at the back of the wagon had been through. There was sadness and determination in their eyes and posture, and in the way they held each other. 

Before the train left the state of Colorado, however, it came to a stop. _Emergency protocol,_ it was announced, and it looked like some things stayed the same. 

Except that it wasn’t an emergency, as a yellow streak rushed in their wagon and took Sara from Leonard’s arms. It lasted two seconds, and then he was there, standing in front of him. 

“Hello, Leonard,” Thawne said, just enough time to let him put out his cold gun. 

“Long time no see,” replied Len in full Captain Cold attitude. 

“I was waiting for you,” he provoked very efficiently, because it put Leonard’s mind spinning with possibilities. How could Thawne know that they were coming? 

“Where is Sara?” he demanded, and Thawne dared to smile. 

“Oh, yeah. That,” he said, as if it was nothing, and then Leonard was being dragged somewhere else.  

When he stopped, he was back at the hill, and Sara immediately invested against Thawne, seeking to hit him anyway she could. 

They needed to slow him down, and that was where Leonard entered with his cold gun. Back in the Legion of Doom days, he never seemed able to hit Thawne; unlike Barry, the Reverse Flash always seemed to be ready for Captain Cold, which strengthened the idea that they had met before. At the time, to go back home to his sister and friends, Leonard had to outsmart Thawne, and this time wouldn’t be different. 

He aimed. And Sara wasn’t fast enough, Thawne used her as a human barrier. 

It didn’t matter how many times they said that if one had the chance to kill the Reverse Flash, one should _do it no matter what_. Facing them, Leonard would never be able to kill Sara in the process. 

At that moment, he knew it was over. Looking into Sara’s eyes, she knew as well. Perhaps that, right there, was why Thawne always used Sara to get back at Leonard. That was how he knew. 

Thawne’s smile got wider, and dread rose in Leonard’s gut. A hand crossed Sara’s chest and she collapsed; he only had time to drop his gun and step forward to catch her before she fell. Her blue eyes were empty, and he held her close. A second after, the familiar sound of his cold gun turned on echoed and Thawne was in front of him. 

Mick once told Leonard that history is cyclic. Four centuries ago, Leonard Snart, the Captain Cold had bought his ticket out of the Legion of Doom by turning Eobard Thawne into an ice statue and breaking him in tiny pieces. Now, the table had turned. 

“See you soon, Cold,” he said, and then pulled the trigger. Captain Cold had a taste of his own medicine right through his heart. 

 

Logan is awfully quiet, and it’s been a while. It worries Mick because he’s known Snarts for a real long time to know that it is _never_ good when they are awfully quiet. 

He is onto something. It isn’t the trauma of being taken on a mission that turned to shit, have to swallow down an amnesia pill and drift in space for four years before landing alone in an unknown place. It isn’t the fact that he saw his parents lose his baby brother the worst way possible. It’s not the knowledge that his parents are long gone by the hands of the man they’ve been trying to deceive. It’s different now. 

When Logan was born, everyone was stunned by how much he looked like Leonard. By the age of two, he had that mass of dark curls and could already talk his way out of almost anything. At age four, Wynonna – three at the time – had to learn the hard way not to follow a Snart’s lead: they were caught in S.T.A.R. Labs lifting wallets and storing all of them under Cisco’s table. In front of them, the adults were _very_ mad, but when the kids weren’t looking, there wasn’t a time they wouldn’t comment on the quality of the genes that Len and Sara passed down. 

The problem is that Mick knows – _knew_ – Leonard way too well to know what it meant when he had that look Logan was wearing now. The look of someone who’s wondering how to fix their fucked up destiny, the ‘ _this cannot be the way things are going to be_ ’ look of someone who’s willing to be drastic, if necessary; and that makes the former arsonist extremely uneasy. 

He had seen way too many times how fate was strong enough to not let anything be fixed. And for a better argument, he had checked way too many times with Gideon and Gibson which ways they could take to reverse what happened – to Barry, Rip, Leonard and Sara -, but there isn’t _one_ outcome that wouldn’t be absolutely catastrophic.  

The danger that lays in Logan is that he thinks he has nothing to lose. His whole family is gone and the one person who’d know how he’s feeling almost in a personal way is gone as well. He thinks he’s irreparably alone, even if his expanded family is here to support him, as well as his friends and his parents’ friends who had loved him so dearly from the start. 

Mick is terrified of a thirteen years old boy. Because he’s the last Snart. Because he can have his hands on a time jump ship if they don’t watch him closely. Because it’s been five years since he lost his parents, but only two weeks that he’s aware of it. Because all of those things combined is a receipt for a disaster that means that nothing will ever be like it is now. And Mick is not willing to exchange everything he has now – Cait, Stella, the Ramons and the JSA – even if it means that it will be him, Lenny and Lisa again, like good ol’ times.  

But Logan? Much like his parents, he only wants the pain to go away. 

 

“I love you, Logan, I really do,” Tia says after lunch. After grandma Dinah came to Central City, it became rare for him to have some time alone with his cousin like they are having this afternoon. “And I’ve missed you. But sometimes I wish we hadn’t found you.” 

The cousins are sitting in opposite sides of the same sofa, knees to chest, face to face. Lucia’s dark eyes are practically covered by her heavy bangs, Logan has to keep pushing his curls back, which always reminds him that he needs to cut his hair. 

“I know,” he replies shrugging and not at all offended. In many ways he wishes to not know as well. 

“When you were away, we didn't know what happened,” she argues, even though she doesn’t need to. “But now we do, and it’s horrible, and mom is-“ Lucia’s voice cracks, and she has to take a couple of deep breaths, avoiding to look at him. “I used to love knowledge, but not so much right now, anymore.” 

“I’m sorry,” Logan says, and it’s sincere. He didn’t mean to be part of such turbulent fate, and it’d put his aunt in a depression state. 

“It’s not your fault,” she says. “But it makes me angry anyway,” Lucia pushes the hair from her eyes and there’s intensity in her glare. Normally,  she’s the spit image of uncle Cisco, but when she hardens like this… Father used to say that she looked just like grandma Cora. “Is that what you feel too?” 

“Anger?” he asks, and she nods. Anger is only the beginning for Logan, but he just got back to his family, he doesn’t want to spook them with his ugly side, so he only says- “Yes.” 

They stay silent for a few moments. The TV is not on, and outside (where aunt Lisa chose to stay) is freezing cold. If Logan’s family hadn’t had gone to the Waverider five years ago, his brother would be having his birthday about now. 

“Why ‘Saint’?” asks Tia all of a sudden. Logan’s mind still is a mix of foggy memories, though being in places and around people he really knows helped _a lot_ to clear his head. He knows again who he is, but being Saint still is very fresh for him. 

“It’s irony,” he says simply, and she waits for a better explanation. “Have you read _Preacher_?” he asks, and she smiles. 

 _Technically_ , they aren’t ‘old enough’ to read those comics, but if Lucia is anything like Logan, he knows she’s not much of a follower of the rules. Besides, uncle Cisco keeps his graphic novels collection pretty accessible, and being how she is, he guessed that his cousin already had had her hands in basically every single one of those volumes. 

“You know how the Preacher keeps mistaking that entity for something ‘sent by God’, but it really isn’t?”  

Lucia narrows her eyes at him, bangs falling over her eyebrows again. 

“You mean people thought you were some sort of good soul when you aimed to misbehave?” Tia asks, and Logan nods. She chuckles. “You will have to tell me the full story behind that name,” she says leaning back, just a little bit more relaxed. 

“Sure,” he replies, and then gets up, feet slipping back in his worn-out boots. “Remind me latter, okay?” 

Lucia nods, and watches him leave the room as if she doesn’t suspect that he’s aiming to misbehave right now. _Everyone_ suspects him, but he just doesn’t care at this point, he is going to do his thing.  

Logan goes to the guestroom where he’s been living since he came back, and gets a heavy black jacket out of the closet. Uncle Cisco said that it is one of his father’s jackets as well, and even though the parka is Logan’s favorite, it wouldn’t be the wisest choice for what he has to do, so the black jacket is the next good thing. He was careful enough not to pack anything until the very last minute, because it is a _fact_ that uncle Mick is keeping an eye on him, has warned everyone to do the same. If it was for uncle Mick, he’d have grandma Dinah taking Logan back to National City with her, very far away from any future technology that would allow him to _do anything stupid_. 

Logan might be up for no good, but he’s not going to do anything stupid. In fact, he has thought every single step of the way, careful not to commit the same mistakes his parents did. He can fix this, he’s certain. 

There is a case under his bed, and scattered around the room are the toys and tools he gathered and organized during his stay at S.T.A.R. Labs, half a dozen things that both Gideon and Gibson told him would help in this journey. So far, his plan has been going smoothly. Logan's first step was to reconfigure Gibson, because uncle Mick's A.I. was super advanced, due to the fact that it was provided by the JSA. Its technology, dated of the 26th century, was used to clean the timeline data and help Other Gideon find the best case scenario for Logan to interfere and save his parents without screwing a lot of things up. 

News fresh: there isn't an easy way to make this happen, this _fixing_. His family depends on way too many details to be what it is, and he is risking a lot of people's destiny's by just considering this journey. Truth is, if Logan wasn't selfish, he'd let things be. He'd settle for living with his aunt and accepting his parents death eventually, and he'd be with uncle Mick and grow up and all things worthy of a soup opera or some YA book about overcoming hard times and shit. 

Not such news, Logan is not selfless. He is made of the same stardust as his parents, the same almost desperate need to make things _right_ , and he won't stop at nothing until he achieves it. In some ways, he believes that knowing what his parents did and how things went south with them gives him an advantage point of view that he’s been exploring.  

With his bag now packed, he goes to the back door. Now that everyone knows what happened to his parents, the Ramons are taking turns to take care of aunt Lisa. Even uncle Mick, who was clearly torn by the news of Logan's parents fate, had to put on a front, because aunt Lisa was broken – not irreparably, but quite damaged. Only Tia is with her mother today, and Logan decided to tag along with his own agenda. 

Aunt Lisa is sitting outside with a photo album on her lap. She's all covered in warm clothes and with a comforter over her legs, but her face looks cold. It looked like the fight had ran away from her, which is something to worry about – Snarts aren't supposed to quit (but if any of them thought a little harder about it, they'd remember of Cora Snart and reconsider). It’s unsettling, but understandable. Father had been responsible for taking care of aunt Lisa since she was born, they were very close. Logan wonders how it must feel like. He didn’t get to _know_ his brother, and it still hurt like a bitch to know that they would never be together. His dad and aunt were their own special case of sibling love. 

“Aunt Lisa?” he calls, fixing the strap of the duffel bag on his shoulder. She hardly moves, her glare barely shifts, but the minimal change in her posture indicates that she’s listening. “This is reversible,” he says.  

Logan’s voice is low and controlled, because he wants to pass confidence when he speaks. However, aunt Lisa chuckles. Her laugh has no humor whatsoever. 

“Our dead, Logan, like to stay dead,” she tells him, almost surfacing another memory in his head. It’s _there_ , but he can’t quite grasp it yet. “Your parents wouldn’t survive another dive into Lazarus Pit. They wouldn’t want to.” 

Is that what they thought he would do, go retrieve his parents’ bodies and head to the nearest pit to bring them back? Or maybe that’s  what they _hoped_ he’d do, after all, that would be the less damaging – for everyone else - case scenario. Wyn’s dad would still be missing, though, and Lucas would still be irreparably stillborn; the Reverse Flash would only be dead in the past, not in the future, where it mattered most, so what would be the point in that? 

That isn’t Logan’s idea at all, and though he has to admit that it was one of the first simulations he ran, it was also the first he dismissed. 

“I can fix this,” he says with a mix of certainty and desperation that catches his aunt’s attention, and she looks at him. 

Her gaze is stripping, as if she can read him to the bone, but Logan is a Snart too, and he knows how to hold his own. When she speaks, however, it breaks him a little. 

“I know we talk all the time how you’re Lenny all over, Logan, but you can’t outsmart him. Your father failed to defeat Thawne, what makes you think you won’t fail as well? Whatever idea you think you have _won’t work_ ,” she says the last two words slowly, as if trying to put some sense in his head letter by letter, but Logan knows better. 

“You will see, aunt,” he replies. “I’ve got this.” 

She doesn’t believe him, he knows. And if it works out, his plan, then she _won’t_ see. The fact is that he has to try, and he will, right now. Even if he dies in the process, just like his parents. But he’s counting on his plan to achieve everything he needs done, and he trusts himself to keep it cool until the work is finished. 

He’s Saint, after all. 

He can do it. 


	9. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kinda hard to believe that this is the last chapter before the epilogue. It is a very hard chapter, and a surprisingly long as well, so I hope you guys enjoy.  
> I'll be waiting to hear your opinion at the end! And thank you for reading.

Later he found out that it had been a week since the jump ship landed in the outskirts of Gotham before he opened his eyes utterly terrified, panicking, sore, and with no idea who he was.

It was a hectic moment of trashing and turning, and desperately he reached for the needle in the back of his neck, pulling it out with a yank. The needle came out red, and some blood slipped down his neck down his shirt. He was barefooted and his clothes were too short for him.

He didn’t know his name.

Sat down in that tub, covered with some sort of gel, he felt filthy. _Where was he_? Better question: Why were there other three tubs… empty?

There was nothing familiar about that place, and nothing familiar about him. He felt incredibly unaware of himself, as if his mind and body were working separately.

It sucked.

He got up and out of the tub surprised to see that he knew how to function. His pants were really small, he either had terrible fashion sense or had spent an awful lot of time in that tub. But he didn’t even know how old he was now. He didn’t know _when_ now was.

“I see your vitals are fine,” a voice said out of nowhere, making him spin around. The hologram of an A.I. appeared in front of what looked like a window, and he identified a thin layer of snow outside. “Forgive me, kid, I didn’t mean to spook you. I’m Gideon, and I’m your A.I.; I was programmed to take care of you.”

He opened his mouth to reply her, but his throat protested, and he needed a couple more attempts to know how his voice was like.

“Programmed by whom?” he asked, sounding hoarse and out of practice.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember, boy,” Gideon answered, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, but do I have a name?” he asked. If she was to take care of him, she _at least_ should know who he was.

“I don’t have that information either, I was severely damaged in our take off.”

Well, that sucked.

“Are you useful at all?” he asked crossing his arms. The slick gel was drying and getting worst.

“I am, kid,” answered Gideon. “I can make you food and money, and there’s a cottage a couple of miles south from here, empty and with running water, that you can use. If my information is accurate, you will even find some clothes that might fit you in its closets.”

“Okay, that’s better,” he nodded and looked around. There was a blue parka in one of the chairs that looked deliciously warm, so he took it and put it on. It was far too big for his frame, but it’d work. “Point me where south is?”

She gave him some coordinates and created some dried food that he’d be able to cook in the cottage. He improvised a bag with his shirt, zipped up the parka and left barefooted with instructions to be back in twenty-four hours. It was the middle of the afternoon, and he made his way quickly, trying to find the cottage as soon as possible. It didn’t keep his feet from almost freezing, the sun was practically useless inside those woods, and the only relief he felt was when he stepped inside another tub, this time filled with hot water.

The cottage was composed of three rooms: a living room with a fire place, it was annexed to the kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It wasn’t big, and he couldn’t risk a fire, but it was cozy and it had a heating system too. _Rich people love to make things seem right at the edge of off road, never completely leaving their comfort zone_ , said a voice in his head. That voice wasn’t his, but he also didn’t know who it belonged to.

Despite all the time he spent sleeping, he found himself dozing off in the tub. The light was coming from the window, and the rays blinded him for a moment. He could see a mountain with snow on top, and a frozen lake in the bottom, and for a second the memory was on the tip of his tongue, but one second wasn’t long enough to hold the thought.

It was gone before he could process it.

There were fluffy towels adorned with fancy Ws in the cabinet, and a first aid kit next to the sink. He patched the back of his neck and the cuts on his feet, found himself some clothes that fit, even though everything was either too big or too small for him, even the shoes.

Guessing that he’d be growing tall in the next however long he still had alone until he found someone who would be able to give him answers, he opted for a pair of boots that were rather loose. He found a backpack in the closet and filled it with shirts, underwear, socks and two pairs of pants. He threw his old clothes away, except for the blue parka, that he set to clean some of the blood and gel from it while his food was getting ready.

Thinking of the ship he’d have to go back to, he went back to the bedroom and separated a comforter and a blanket, folded one in the other, rolled them and put a belt around it to secure them. He opened cabinets and drawers looking for anything useful, and hoping to have another go at the cottage after he checked the supplies in the ship; he was so desperate to get clean when he woke up that he didn’t even look around there.

His hair was too long, but his only options there were shaving or cutting it off with a kitchen scissor, and he didn’t want to be an ass, using a kitchen scissor to non-kitchen stuff, so he kept it that way. Gideon had said that she could fabricate money, so he’d take some and look for a barber shop in the city.

He kept opening drawers and cabinets looking for anything that would be useful, and found himself some interesting stuff. There was no TV there, but he found an old tablet that took twice the time to find the charger. As soon as the thing was connected, the first thing that caught his attention was the date: Gotham, January 5, 2030. For some reason, it felt… _out of place_.

The electronic was wiped clean and connected automatically to a WiFi web consisted of numbers and letters; it had some nice apps installed, like Facebook and Instagram. He didn’t know how he knew about those apps, but when he clicked to register, he had to stop short. He didn’t have a name. He didn’t know how old he was. Both social networks said that you’d have to be at least 13 to sign up, but how would they know?

Instead, he Googled missing children, trying to see if there was anyone looking for him. He ate noodles and dried beef as he swiped photos of kids that looked nothing like him, or a lot like him, and he kept looking as he found chocolate and marshmallow in the cabinets, so for a moment he was searching hot chocolate receipts, and by the time he went back to the missing kids, he felt helpless.

America was _huge_ , how was he supposed to be found? Perhaps he wasn’t even American, who could tell? He had the accent, but Gideon sounded British. So, instead, he rested and went back to the ship before Gideon’s deadline. He took the tablet and charger with him and asked Gideon to do a scan on it while he looked around the ship to know his options.

“Are you looking for something specific?” asked Gideon, when he finally figured out how to connect the tablet to the ship. He shrugged.

“Not really,” he answered. “Can you empty these tubs or do I have to do this manually?”

“I can do it,” Gideon replied. “There isn’t much here, boy. It’s a Wayne Tech tablet for domestic use. Nothing but empty apps cleared of data.”

“You’re a freaking A.I., Gideon,” he said opening the tools cabinet. Oh, plenty of interesting stuff there. “Figure it out. Also, I need some money and the directions to the city. You know if there’s any barber shop open?”

“Google it, kid.”

Damn, that was a lot of sass for one artificial intelligence robot. She made the money he needed, and connected her servers to the tablet he had brought, but also informed that it had unlimited data usage, so he’d be able to use it without the WiFi.

He put on his warmest clothes, two pairs of socks to try and fill those boots, and left to the city, following the instructions of the map app of the tablet. The nearest neighborhood was rather fancy, and half of his money was gone in the barber shop, but at least now all that curly hair was gone. The woman who cut his hair even made some ponytails and asked him if he wanted to donate the hair to make wigs for those who needed.

“Okay,” he said shrugging, and she smiled.

“You’re such a nice kid,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a saint.”

First time he was called that. Not the last.

He liked it, but something told him that he wasn’t quite as holy as the word sounded. Getting out of there, he searched for some cheap restaurant where he could have a good, real dinner, and found some nice options at the Narrows.

There was nothing clear about Gotham. It was a grey, wet city with unfriendly people, and even though he looked the part, the restaurant he tried to get in, an Italian place, its sauce could be smelled across the street, had him kicked out before he even made it three steps inside.

“But I can pay!” he shouted, getting up from the frozen sidewalk.

“Yeah, of course you do,” a massive guy said. He had a V scar on his forehead and looked less friendly than anyone else. They heard someone calling him from inside (‘ _BUTCH!_ ’) and after that, the guy forgot all about the kid.

“Forget about it, man,” someone said to his left, and he looked over. There was a boy around his age leaning against the wall. He was short, with black hair and blue eyes, and he seemed to be a foreigner at the same time it looked like he belonged there. “This is the Penguin’s headquarters, he doesn’t let kids go in since Selina Kyle whipped them clean like, thirteen years ago.”

“I just want to eat something nice,” he mumbled, tempted to try the door again. The other boy made a face.

“Might be true, but no one trust a kid in the Narrows,” he stated. “Nice clothes, though. You should’ve stayed in the neighborhood you stole them from.”

“I didn’t…” he started, but it was kind of useless. He did steal those clothes after all. “I just… I’m hungry, that’s all.”

“Here,” the other boys got a plastic bag from his jacket and tossed it to him. It was bread. “You can have it, I’m full.”

“Where did you get this?” he asked taking a big bite. The boy did look well fed.

“Believe it or not, it’s easier to get food across the bridge,” answered the boy. That bread was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. “Gee, dude, slow down.”

That made he breathe and take the advice. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but he knew that since he was up, he was constantly hungry.

“My name is Dick, by the way,” the boy said. “What’s yours?”

He didn’t have an answer, so he said nothing, and Dick shrugged.

“Mysterious. Okay. Wanna see something cool?” Dick asked, and he nodded. That bread was ending fast, so he decided to put it back in its bag and save some for later. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Dick turned in the first alley he found, and he followed him. They climbed up a trash can, and then up the emergency stairs of the building until they reached the top, where they could see the sunset and the city’s skylight. It was breathtaking.

“You have some nice tricks, huh?” he asked Dick, who nodded.

“I was born in the circus. Acrobat. We used to travel all around the country, and meet all kinds of people, it was really fun.”

“But?”

“But my parents were killed by clowns. And now I’m stuck in Gotham.”

“Life is a bitch,” he said.

“That she is,” Dick agreed. “Where are _your_ parents?”

He breathed in and looked down. They had a great view of the back of that restaurant from there.

“I don’t know,” he said, which was true. He had no idea. If he forced a little, there was this male voice in his head, and blonde long hair behind his eyelids, but… that was a faded puzzle. “Dick, do you happen to know the working schedule of that place?”

Dick followed where his finger was pointing and raised an eyebrow.

“No, but I know someone who does. Her name is Stephanie. Why?”

“I’m really in the mood for some Italian, you know?” he said, eyes glued on the back door. “Can you contact her and ask her to meet us here in three hours?”

Dick hesitated.

“I guess.”

“You don’t need to come if you don’t want to,” he said, and Dick shook his head.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great,” he smiled and got up. “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you in a few, then.”

“Yeah, and you better have a good plan.”

Oh, plans were in his DNA, he thought, even though he couldn’t prove it. He went back to the ship and had Gideon making more money. Unfortunately, she advised him against going back to the cottage, so he couldn’t take another hot shower; he didn’t even change his clothes and went back to the city with a pack of freshly made money in his pocket.

He only had to wait for a few minutes on top of that building before Dick came back followed by a blonde girl that was way too young.

“You came,” he said. “And I was here thinking that you disapproved.”

“You didn’t exactly said what you were going to do, I want to check it out,” replied Dick. “This is Stephanie.”

He gestured and she nodded once. She was about Dick’s height, and she wore many layers of warm clothes, as well as mittens and a beanie, her blonde straight hair only visible over her scarf.

“You… look…” he tried to comment on something interesting, but all he found was obvious. “Nine.”

“That’s because she is,” Dick talked over her. “Steh is the most brilliant 9 year old of Gotham.”

“After Barbara Gordon, according to the state’s educational office,” she said, her way of showing that she had a voice. Stephanie stepped closer to him. “So? What do you want with the Penguin’s place? It’s just a restaurant, dude.”

“I know, exactly,” he looked down over the edge, eyes on the back door. “I want to eat. So tell me, is there a time where the place gets completely unsupervised?”

Stephanie got closer to him and so did Dick.

“Lucky for you, there is,” she said. “But it’s only after 1:45 a.m., when they already closed for the night and left the _mise en place_ ready for the next day.”

He hummed and checked the time on the tablet. They still had a couple of hours until they’d be able to try and break in, so the three kids sat together and started to sharpen the plan to make it possible. At exact 1:45, the last staff members closed the doors and left. The kids waited another fifteen minutes just to make sure, and shared that last half of bread in the meantime.

When it looked like the place was quiet, the kids went down the building and made a beeline to the back of the restaurant.

“You sure they don’t have alarms?” he asked one more time, just to make sure, and Stephanie nodded.

“Penguin can’t risk getting the cops’ attention,” she explained, and satisfied he fished some small tools from his pocket and started working on the lock. It gave away in less than a minute. “Where did you learn that?”

He shrugged.

“Not sure,” he answered. Translation: no clue. “Small hands do the work better, I guess,” he wiggled his fingers before he opened the door and looked at Stephanie, who smiled.

“You’ll have to teach me, then,” she said making him stop and holding his hand. Hers were way smaller.

“Of course,” he agreed. She let go, and the three of them made their way through the kitchen.

“Penguin’s men patrol the alley every third minutes,” Steh said as Dick closed the door. “We can’t turn any light on.”

He looked around scanning the kitchen, and then he opened the fridge, faced all those bowls of tomato sauce, meatballs, the ground beef and fresh pasta. He smiled.

“It’s not necessary,” he said. “All we need is the stove fire.”

They chopped onions and garlic, picked basil and boiled salted water under the instructions he found on his tablet. They cooked way more sauce and pasta than they could eat and ate on the floor making small talk. After they were past satisfied, he put the rest of the cooked food in recipients to go, washed the dishes and left some money with a note by the cashier.

“ _Thank you, Mr. Penguin_?” Stephanie read. “You’re _paying_?”

“Yeah, I’m paying. I said I could.”

“Noble,” she replied. “And what about that extra food?”

“For later,” he answered. “You can take some home too, or to some friend you know is hungry.”

“Really?” Steh exclaimed. “Most kids would be happier with some cash. Or that tablet of yours.”

“You telling me they don’t want food?” he raised an eyebrow, and she smiled. “Slip a fifty with the pasta, then.”

He gave her some money, and her smile grew twice as big.

“Oh, you really _are_ a saint, aren’t you?” she wondered, and he shrugged. Hardly.

“I guess you could call me that.”

“Aren’t you too young to crush on the new guy, Steh?” Dick asked, and she gave him the tongue.

“Don’t sweat it,” he said. “I’m not sticking around. Here,” he offered the tablet to Stephanie and she accepted it.

“You’re leaving already?” asked Dick, standing straighter. He seemed very surprised.

“Yeah, gotta keep moving, or I’ll never know who I am,” he explained.

“But where would you start?” Dick pressed. He smiled. ‘Saint’ sounded nice. Kinda familiar. Maybe he could go by it for now, until he could remember his real name. Finally, he answered.

“I already have.”

 

Their corpses are already cold, but in his head is like they’re still warm. Gibson set the course to a couple of days after their murder because anything before that could jeopardize several events. As if Logan’s main plan wouldn’t screw everything else anyway.

Thawne just left them there, mom with an open chest, dad with a frozen one. They are just lying there, in that Colorado hill near the graves of Rip and Lucas. So Logan finds himself a shovel in the Waverider (that also is just lying there, except that it’s cloaked. He only has access to it because of the jump ship control that is in his possession) and starts digging next to his brother’s practically fresh grave.

It takes half a day, and he feels exhausted by the time they are six feet under – both physical and emotionally. At this point, Logan is just numb all over, which in some way is all he needs, because he’s about to fuck up with history, and that can only get messy. Numbness is his tool to keep going.

So he keeps going.

 

The secret laid in the original timeline, the very first one before the Thawne decided that the Flash should be gone. Luckily for Logan, Other Gideon had all the information he needed: Barry Allen got his powers in 2020, due to the malfunction of S.T.A.R. Labs’ particle accelerator. Before that, he lived happily ever after with his parents in Central City, was engaged to the promising journalist Iris West and was one successful CSI at the CCPD.

 _That_ was what Thawne tempered with when he decided, in 2420, the 400 th celebration of the first Flash, to find out about Barry and destroy everyone’s life.

New York, 2420 is when Logan jumps to, his final destination. It’s the middle of a fall night, and it’s wet, and he all he’s got to show is a cloaked jump ship with two sassy A.I.s that can never agree, this heavy dark jacket that is too big for his small frame and a cold gun shrunk because of a couple of adaptations he made himself based on the Atom’s costume.

The cold wind bites Logan’s skin and fills his eyes with water. He thought he had no crying in him anymore, but it looks like he’s wrong. This is an empty road in the outskirts of America’s biggest city, and it’s where Thawne will arrive in just a few, so he guesses it’s a good thing he didn’t cut his hair again – the long curls are partially covering his face, and that way he can shield himself, pretend that no one will notice that the cold is just part of the reason he’s crying, as if he could pretend that it has nothing to do with the fact that he just buried his parents.

Logan doesn’t look up when he hears the portal opening. He doesn’t have to. In fact, he has no idea if his plan will work in this exact point, but he can only hope. Hope that Thawne’s euphoria for finding out who the Flash is will be enough to make him stop in consideration of this lost child.

It does.

“Are you okay?” a vibrating voice asks, and shyly Logan looks up at the man in yellow. His cheeks are freezing with the tears, and his left hand is firmly holding the cuffs inside his pocket. 26th century technology from uncle Mick’s stash, it _has_ to work.

“I’m lost,” Logan answers. His voice is way smaller than he expected, not even when he woke up after a five years sleep he sounded so weak. His bottom lip quivers and a couple of tears drop. “My parents…”

“How did you end up here, kid?” Thawne asks looking around.

“I…” Logan looks to both sides of the road, and then to the woods behind him. Thawne steps closer. “Wandered.”

On his right hand and pocket, the cold gun awaits. Just a little closer, it’s all he needs. Logan swallows and the wind blows the hair out of his eyes as he looks up at Thawne.

“Are you the new Flash?” he asks, and Thawne smiles before he comes at arm’s reach and kneels in front of Logan.

“Kid, I’m way better than him,” he says with certainty, and it makes Logan sick to his stomach. “Hey, what’s your name? You look-“

Logan only has one chance to do it before it’s too late, so his fingers quickly press the buttons of the cuffs before he takes them from his pocket. A split second to make everything be worthy, to make all the pain go away. One chance. And he takes it.

“What the-“ Thawne shouts. Somewhere inside him, Logan wants to smile, but he doesn’t have the strength, not yet, even if the Reverse Flash  stupidly has his hands and feet cuffed to the ground by a weapon too great invented way too late. “You stupid little prick, take them off!”

Thawne tries to phase through the cuffs, but he can’t. They were designed for that, to stop speedsters; it’s their only job. Logan takes the gun out of his pocket too, and presses the button that makes it go back to its normal size. He sees how Thawne’s eyes recognize the gun right away.

“I know this thing, I just saw it,” the Reverse Flash says. He’s not even bothering to go all vibrating on Logan anymore as he spits the words at the kid, face as scarlet as the speedster he despises so much. “Cold,” he says. “You can’t kill me unless you want to temper with the whole timeline, kid. Did you know? And since you don’t want to do that, here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to break out, and I’m going to kill you, and then I’ll kill the rest of your family, one by one.”

“Don’t bother,” Logan replies looking the man right in the eyes. “Our dead like to stay dead.”

Logan puts the gun right under Thawne’s chin and watches the desperation grow in the man’s eyes. It is both parts satisfying and emptying, and the boy swallows.

“This is not going to work!” Thawne screams. Does he know how ridiculous he looks like on his hands and knees, brought down by a _child_? “The paradoxes are going to destroy everyone you love.”

Funny. That’s exactly what Thawne has done already, so… what’s the difference?

Too bad for Eobard Thawne, Logan Snart is no saint.

A split second.

And then-

“Go to hell,” Logan says right before he pulls the trigger. The cold intensifies as Thawne’s head is turned into a popsicle, and all Logan can feel is nothing, and nothing, and nothing until the man in yellow is pushed back and broken in a thousand pieces.

 

For some reason, Logan still is here in this empty road in the outskirts of New York, cold gun in his right hand, that is not even the good one. It’s so cold, but he’s sweating like crazy, his hair all plastered on his forehead, and crying like a baby.

Fun fact: the air smells like pine, sugar and maple, and even though is late at night, he feels like there is some sunlight coming through the window, and that his dad is there. _Come on, Logan, we gotta be ready for your mom’s birthday!_ It’s as right now as it is seven years ago.

Logan’s eyes are so foggy with all the tears and the sobbing that he doesn’t even process the sound ever so familiar of a time ship, nor see someone approaching him a couple minutes later.

It’s only when he blinks that he can focus on the two people coming in his direction. They are a man and a woman, and their clothes are oddly familiar. The man… with his sand hair and mustache, he…

He kneels in front of Logan and rests a hand on the kid’s shoulder. It’s a weird feeling that nothing has to do with the cold or the numbness, so Logan looks down at his hands. He’s disappearing. It’s happening.

When he decided to go with it, with this crazy plan, Logan had no idea what would be like to erase everything he knew about life, and love and family. Now he knows. And it feels like you can’t feel at all.

“Hi Logan, howdy?” the man says, catching his attention. Logan frowns. How does he know who he is? “Don’t worry,” the man continues. “We’ve got this.”

Logan only has time to look at the woman one more time, and she’s smiling at him as if telling him. That he’s so very brave, maybe? That he did the right thing? He would never know. She looks motherly, he guesses. That should be enough.

“It’s okay, Logan,” she says. And for the first time in six years, it feels like it really is okay.

Everything always happens in just a moment – from the knife that was craved in Nora Allen’s chest to the cold gun falling on the empty road outside New York.

Ephemeral, as they say. Like a butterfly.

Logan is gone.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we reach the end of this fic. I thank you all for coming and reading and commenting and everything you did. I really hope I didn't disappoint you guys, and made your votes that crowned 'Ashes' best underrated worth it, because that's the ending I was going for.  
> Thanks for the patience, even when this fic took 2 months more than I initially planned to come to an end. Yall are the MVPS.

“Logan?” someone is calling him. “Logan, it’s time to wake up.”

The voice is near, but he’s deep in this dream. He’s been having lots of those lately. This time, Logan is alone in an empty road, with ice all around. He’s holding his father’s old gun when Rip and his late wife, Miranda, show up. _It’s okay, Logan._

“Logan, come on. You gotta get ready for your brother’s birthday,” he feels his body being shaken brushing away the dream, and slowly opens his eyes.

The sun is coming through the half open curtains and Logan is sleeping on his stomach. Something, _someone_ is pressing his right side, and his left hand is touching the mattress of his bunk bed.

“Okay, dad,” he mumbles, even though he knows that his father already left the room, for he heard the door closing a few seconds ago.

Logan blinks a few times and the first thing he focus on is the mass of curly hair of Wynonna’s head. It also takes a few seconds for him to see that her hand is close to his. She’s awake, hazel eyes blinking sleepy.

“Hi,” Logan greets, and Wyn smiles.

“Hi,” she replies in the same whispered tone.

Logan feels himself being pushed, and to try and keep in place, he holds down to Wyn’s bed. When he looks to his right to see who is pushing him, all he sees is Lucia’s massive dark hair all over the pillows as she stretches.

She is very spacey.

Tia yawns, and manages to completely push Logan out of his bed and on top of Wyn. How someone so small can occupy so much space is a mystery.

“Tia, come on!” Logan complains, quickly getting off of Wyn and pulling the pillow from under his cousin’s head. That wakes her up.

“What?” she exclaims, eyes snapping open. For a moment, it’s like she doesn’t know where she is, and then it clicks. She looks over to her right, where Logan and Wyn are sitting down. “What are you doing there?” she asks, and Logan frowns.

“We are not sharing a bed ever again,” he answers instead, and Tia rolls her eyes. He’d been saying that for many years.

“Maybe you need a bigger bed,” she tells him, and Wyn chuckles. The door is suddenly opened before he could reply, and then his dad is there again.

“Oi? It’s nice you’re all up and everything, but _get ready in silence_ ,” his father hisses. “Lucas is still asleep.”

Between ‘ _Fine’s_ and ‘ _Hi, uncle Lenny’s_ , they get up.

“Come help with the toddlers in five,” his dad still says before he closes the door again. Sunday morning and they already are being bossed around.

“Oh, man, it’s not even 7:30!” Wyn complains as she brushes her teeth. Logan is doing the same and Lucia is trying to tame her long hair.

“That’s all Lucas’s fault, you know?” Tia points out, also pointing the hairbrush towards the other side of the shared bathroom for emphasis. “Who the heck chooses brunch as your favorite dish?”

Logan spits in the sink.

“You know Lucas is as weird as Sonny,” he comments.

“Maybe even more than Merrick,” Wyn adds, but the cousins have to think this one over. The youngest Allen is _not_ a normal kid.

“Debatable,” Tia says instead. “But there is one thing we can agree on: young siblings are a patience test.”

“Yeah,” Wyn agrees at the same time Logan says- “I don’t know, Louisa is quite adorable.”

They get ready quickly to go help with the younger kids. There are _plenty_ of little ones now, after Larson was born. Like uncle Mick and aunt Cait, who had Stella around the time Louisa was born, and Merrick Allen is only a few months older than Lucas. Aunt Laurel and uncle Oliver took this little boy Hal under their protection a couple of years ago, and Logan’s godmother, Tea, just had a baby girl. 

The Snart house in Louisiana is packed with people in that first Sunday of 2031. The first birthday of the year. It’s funny, because sometimes Logan has this feeling as if none of this would be possible without fate, as if someone had pressed the right buttons to make things happen just right, as if ‘ _fate_ ’ was supposed to have a name and a face.

“Are you okay?” Wyn asks Logan when they were finishing getting Lou and Hal ready, and he raises an eyebrow. “I watched you sleep,” she confesses with a small smile, and maybe even blushing a little. “You looked troubled. Nightmares?”

“I don’t know,” Logan answers, because he really doesn’t. “It’s weird.”

“One of those?”

“Yeah, one of those,” he says. Wyn was the only one he told about the dreams he’s been having for the past year, and she’s been all Googleing stuff, and searching for hidden meanings, but... Those dreams, they felt like past lives memories, felt like… fears. 

“Did you tell your dad?” she asks, and he shakes his head.

“Just that one,” he says. That one weeks ago where Time Pirates invaded a time ship and his mom lost the baby. Logan woke up in the middle of the night in tears, it was horrible.

“You should tell him,” Wyn advises. To be fair, he’s been considering it quite a lot.  
Rip arrives just when the smell of waffles and bacon are beginning to fill the first floor, and the chatter is becoming rather loud. He brings along Logan’s grandparents, and it’s been good four years since the boy had seen the Time Master for the last time. Well, apart from the dream. The way Rip looks at Logan, though… it’s interesting.

“Oh, look at you,” the British says, getting closer to the boy. He puts both hands on his shoulders. “Wow. Exactly how I remember.”

Logan quickly glances at his father, who just shrugs, and then back at Rip.  
“I had a dream last night,” Logan says then. “You were in it, with Miranda.”  
Rip raises an eyebrow and looks over to Leonard, but before anyone can go in details, the last dishes are put in the living room, and Logan’s mom is coming down the stairs with Louisa on her hip and a big smile.

“Birthday boy is here,” she announces, and the next thing is Lucas showing up on the top of the stairs wearing his Green Arrow pajamas and acting all surprised, Larson and Merrick behind him and everyone shouting-

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

-so loud that they even forgot that there is a new born in the house who immediately starts _wailing_ , so Tea has to go outside try to calm the baby, but Lucas is so flattered, it’s almost comical.

“I don’t know how it still surprises me that Lucas is such a diva,” Wyn comments, and Logan shakes his head.

“That’s because you live so fucking far. When you’re near him twenty-four seven, it’s just another day at the Snarts.”

"You are the one who lives far, Logan," Tia comments.

“I will have you know, Logan,” interrupts Rip. “That he got all the _flare_ from your father.”

The kids chuckle. 

“I know,” the boy nods knowingly. “He’s got a thing for drama.”

“Always had,” Rip agrees. “It’s one of the reasons I chose him.”

“One of?” echoes Tia, looking up at the British man, and Rip nods, his eyes on Leonard and Sara as Logan realizes following his gaze. “I thought it was because he was a thief. What else?”

Rip smiles. He looks at other people too, before he answers. Uncle Mick and Ray, and Mrs. Kendra and aunt Laurel. Logan wonders how many lifetimes the man’s lived. Did he lose count like uncle Mick?

“To fix some things that were broken, Ramonita,” Rip finally says, and he glances at Logan just barely before turning his attention to Sara, who came to greet him. “I suppose this is the youngest Snart, Ms. Louisa.”

Baby Lou smiles, but doesn’t let go of Sara’s neck.

“What is this?” wonders Rip. “I didn’t know your kind came in shy!”

“Don’t be an ass, Captain,” Sara replies, not at all annoyed, to be fair. “You don’t show up since Lucas’s first birthday,” she, then, turns to the other kids. “Go eat, guys, before Mick attacks the granola pancakes. Here,” she passes Lou to Logan. “Maybe you can make her want to eat now.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Logan replies, and heads first to the table where people are filling their plates with food. “What do you think, Lou? Chocolate cereal?”

The little blonde girl nods excitedly, as he predicted. What would be of this family without him, right?

Logan looks back to where now both his parents are talking to Rip. He doesn’t know what the Time Master meant when he said he was fixing broken things, but he did know one thing about Rip.

On Logan’s 13th birthday, he didn’t feel like celebrating it, and his parents thought it was some sort of I’m-a-teenager-now type of rebellion. It genuinely worried his mom, but his dad was super chill about it. When asked why, he was factual. _Because Rip assured that Logan loves us to death, so why worry?_ Now, how Rip knew that was a mystery. The only thing that mattered was that it was true.

It still is.

Nothing could change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January the 5th, 2031.
> 
> The Snart cousins:  
> Logan S. (13), Lucia 'Tia' R. (10), Larson 'Sonny' R. (7), Lucas S. (5) and Louisa 'Lou' S. (3).
> 
> The other children:  
> Wynonna Allen (12), Hal Jordan (5), Merrick Allen (5), Stella Rory (4) and Tea's baby is just a couple of months old.


End file.
